Hi! I wanted to tell you my four-legged love story.

My name is Floppy. I got my name when my dogmom’s niece was six. She watched me do belly-flops when I would try to run across the linoleum floor at her house. My ears kept getting in the way. Dogmom said they didn’t grow any bigger after she brought me home.

I was the tinniest runt of a litter of cocker spaniel puppies that were brought into a pet store in Bryan, Ohio, just before Thanksgiving in 1983. Dogmom really wanted a cocker spaniel puppy but she was in college and couldn’t afford a real one, so she went in “just to look.”

The breeder was going to put me down and not sell me. I was just there on my way to the vet. See, I was born with a heart murmur… and weighed only 2 pounds when I was eight weeks old. All my brothers and sisters were normal size. That, and I was the only black one.

He was pretty adamant that I wasn’t for sale… he said I wouldn’t live to see my fifth birthday and that I’d never get my papers. But dogmom can be pretty stubborn. For some reason, she needed something to save that day. In the end, she won. She convinced him to sell me to her for $50 (half price of the others, but what she could afford) without papers.

I was tiny. I weighed 2 pounds and both me and my towel fit inside a shoe box. I was a happy, smart puppy. It took me 10 minutes to learn how to sit… of course, I didn’t have far to go down. Housebreaking took longer, not because I didn’t get it… but because I couldn’t go down the steps outside by myself until I was almost a year old.

When I was full-grown, I weighed 18 pounds… so I was always about half the size I should have been. I was smart and friendly and happy all the time. I loved to walk with dogmom… four miles every day… and to play and to meet new people. We lived together in Cincinnati (OH) and in Fort Wayne (IN) and in Charlotte (NC) and in Tempe and Phoenix and Mesa, AZ.

I lived a long time past the five years that the breeder predicted. When I was eight, I started taking medicine every day for my heart. Each year, it seemed like I had to take some more. But, I didn’t mind. I didn’t even mind when all the doctors did all kinds of tests and ultrasounds and stuff. I was just happy to be alive and happy to be living with dogmom.

Sometimes, I’d get really sick… but I’d go to the doctors and they would change my meds and I’d feel better. Then, one day, my kidneys started to fail. Dogmom gave me fluids at home and we had a couple of extra days together. But, ultimately, I just wanted to walk across the rainbow bridge. Dogmom understood. It was hard to leave, but I was ready.

It was August 8, 2000… only 10 days before my 17th birthday…


Dogmom says that pets fill a void in people’s lives that nothing else can. She has some new four-legged lovers living with her now… but still has my picture hanging on the fridge. It’s the only one she has, cuz all the others were destroyed when the pipes burst at the house… I lived before there were digital cameras. It was taken at Christmas, just seven months before I crossed the rainbow bridge.

Don’t worry… be floppy!

 Submitted by DogMom