For the last 18 years, much of our life has been devoted to our dogs. English cockers are a wonderful breed, very addictive, and very much the individual! Our breed standard calls for a “merry dog” and that description exactly fits our Cedarbrook English cockers. Some of them take the “merriment” a bit too far sometimes, but one look at those big brown eyes usually melts any threat of punishment into a smile and a pat on the head. . .and usually (judging by their waistlines) a doggy treat. All our dogs receive genetic testing for hereditary hip, eye and ear problems before they are bred. As longtime members of the national English Cocker club (English Cocker Spaniel Club of America) and because of our personal dedication to preserving the health and integrity of this breed, we try to be open and honest about the health problems in our pedigrees, and encourage other breeders to do the same. We encourage puppy buyers to do their homework and purchase a puppy from a reputable breeder that will stand behind what they have produced, and be honest about potential problems. We are members of the National Rescue Network, and our door is always open to an EC in need. IF YOU DON'T RESCUE, DON'T BREED! Many very special dogs have shared our lives over the years. The most special by far was the one who never won a ribbon, never showed up in any pedigree other than his own, and never made his mark in any way. . .other than being the son I would never have, and being the light of our life for almost 6 years.
“Bookie”
(Cedarbrook’s Against the Odds; Ch Winglade Ringmaster, ECM ex Cedarbrook's
Blue Cinders) was a miracle dog from the very beginning. His mom abandoned
him after one look at the tiny little almost-transparent almost-embryo. Although
I usually believe in letting nature take it’s course, something about
this little package of skin, bones and little else called out to me, and
I started a bottle-feeding regimen. At four weeks, a vet check found problems
with heart, lungs and a myriad of other health
nightmares.
Bookie died
before his sixth birthday, taking a very big chunk of my heart.
Memories make me smile. But they always bring a tear. Life goes on. But it will never be the same again.
The
ones who share our lives now &
the ones who touched
|
“He won’t live to be six weeks old,” one vet predicted. But
he did. And then he had a first birthday, then a second, a third, fourth,
and fifth. His fifth birthday is a very special memory for me, celebrated
in the office of his vet (dba Aunt Ellen Trapp) with birthday hats
for the clinic cat, all the vet techs and their pets, and Ellen’s new
human baby.
He was one in a million, and he will never be
forgotten. The Garth Brooks song playing on this page always comes to mind
when I remember Bookie “I could have missed the pain, but I’d have
had to miss the dance.” And I wouldn’t trade the pain of losing
him for the joys of the memories we will always have. He made me a better
person, by him just being him. He rests beneath my office window in a small
garden, surrounded by violets and ivy.
