November 4, 1996-March 18, 2010

If tears could build a stairway,
and memories a lane,
I'd walk right up to heaven,
and bring you home again........

My dearest Spike,

Last week you were still with us. You walked through the garden with your ball in your mouth like a young dog, helping the 'boss', barking as usual at the rake and the broom. Your favourite season was about to begin, walking the garden, sleeping in the sun or in the rolled garden hose, digging holes in the border, and at evenings hunting flies with the ball in your mouth.
I stood at the window and thought how well you looked despite your age and your ailments. Today it is Saturday again and you are gone forever. This morning I wanted to take your breakfast out of the fridge and I remembered.... Later I wanted to open the door for you and I remembered.....

We have been through a lot together, I helped you through your severest cramping episodes, lifted you every day in and out of the car because you couldn't jump because of your spondylosis. At holidays the ‘boss’ carried you over difficult rocky mountain paths and up the stairs in French villages. Your thank you's were grumps because you didn't like to be lifted and carried. Once we had you in our arms it was o.k.

At Wednesday evening I suddenly heard a terrible noise coming from the kitchen. I ran to the kitchen and found you in a terrible seizure. You were foaming at the mouth, making fly eating movements. You were so strong I couldn't lift you, I called out for the ‘boss’, he came right away and took you in his arms. You started howling groaning, crying. It was terrible to witness. Just as I was about to phone the vet, you became quieter. The rest of the evening you were restless, walking the room, nosing with Kyra and Penny as if you were saying good buy. That night you got another seizure.
In the morning you looked o.k. You devoured your breakfast and we went for a little walk. I was relieved and thought you were ok again. At 10.15 that morning you got another severe episode. I rushed you to the vet. They laid you in a dark room and gave you medicine. You didn't respond an kept on howling and groaning. The vet told me you had a grand mal and couldn’t come out of it. I phoned the ‘boss’ at his work, he came right away and together with the vet we decided to let you go. You died peaceful in your bosses arms.

My mailbox is filled with sweet e-mails from people all over the world people expressing their gratitude for what you have meant for the Border community. You were send to me for a reason; we were a team, you were my teacher dog, I was your pupil.
Together with Karin and Britt we discovered a diet for both of you and with this knowledge we could help other owners with their cramping dogs.
Rest in peace my Grote Lieve Poeperd.
We miss you terribly.

Joke Miedema
March 20, 2010.

Spike didn't die from a cramping episode but from terrible epileptic seizures.