Alvin was born to a polite and lady-like black and white springer spaniel, and a crazed out liver and white oversized male that had to be kept outside (hint hint.. we should have thought ahead to the genetic similarities we may be involving ourselves in by purchasing an offspring from such a crazy sire), but to be observant we were not, clueless and beside ourselves, baby Alvin, quiet and sleeping during our visit to the breeder's home 8 weeks after his coming into the universe over 12 years ago from this day, came home to the Wehman household for a long long journey we almost wish we never got ourselves into.
So why did we purchase from a breeder? My mom and I are not animal breeder advocates to this day, in which we promote and support adoptions only for homeless animals in danger of being euthanized. But back in the day, when my father was still alive, he was falling downhill as a victim to cancer for the second time around. Completely beside himself after the death of his beloved Springer Spaniel Ernie Wehman, who had been in the family for 14 years, my mom noticed a decline in his health not only due to the cancer but due to his deep depression. The only thing she felt she could do was bring a new light into his life, by getting him the ultimate gift of a new puppy springer spaniel to fill the void which Ernie had left in his heart. So after seeing an ad in the paper of fresh springer puppies in Wildwood, NJ... off we went during one of our weekend visits to our shore home. Naturally, we did not come home empty handed.. and as a 12 year old, it of course was a dream come true to have a puppy in the house.
Now Alvin may have had a chance at a normal life, but there had to have been some minor error in the biological wiring within his brain from the start.... besides the fact he was death from birth which the breeder lied to us about. If we had known he was deaf from the start, it may have been a little easier to work with a member of a breed that was bred as a hunting dog and constantly on a mission to "find the bird". Something about Alvin always made him a little nuts.... with the typical "springer" bounce he had on all of his feet every time he took a step, the excess saliva covered foot-long tongue that was like an extra apparatus that never stayed in its mouth where it belonged, and a bit of a psychotic glow in his eyes (what I know now is just the reflection of the tapetum) that I always swore could have been the devil deep inside. But none-the-less, a beautiful dog, and adorable puppy, there was nothing not to love.
My dad was on his last years of living in 2002-2003, and the existence of Alvin I'm sure may have even prolonged that bit of his life, and perhaps the quality of it. My dad, too weak to climb up the stairs or sleep in bed, lived on the couch every day and every night, with Alvin's cage only an arm's length away, which became his (my dad's) new sleeping spot. He would fall asleep next to Alvin in his cage every night, and was oblivious to the fact he would wake up mid-night with a bloody ear from Alvin mistaking it as a chew toy. But my dad didn't care. Alvin was his pride and joy. If Alvin didn't want to wait until daylight to eat his breakfast, he would awaken my dad at 4AM wanting to eat. My dad didn't care.. he dragged his weak self over to Alvin's food bucket, where he scooped out and allowed Alvin to indulge in his food whenever he wanted to. This was a therapy for my dad, and a distraction from the life-taking disease that was encompassing his life. In the mean time, Alvin grew, Alvin got what he wanted, and Alvin became a monster.
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