Back in 1972, my family adopted a spunky little beagle mix dog and named her Clancy. An unusual name for a dog, but my mom is Irish and wanted a great Irish name for our dog. Clancy turned out to be quite a handful when we were kids. She was always trying to bolt out of the house and we would have to spend our afternoons trying to catch her. She would run around the neighborhood like a lunatic! One time, Clancy bit my sister, and my parents almost got rid of the dog, but my sister and I pleaded with my parents not to do it because it was my sister's fault. Apparently, my sister had gotten on the floor with Clancy and tried to take her food away while the dog was eating. At first Clancy growled at her, but my sister kept provoking, until Clancy retaliated. It took a lot of pleading and begging, but eventually my parents gave in and we kept Clancy. In 1976 my family decided to sell our home in the city and move to the suburbs. Clancy handled the transition quite well, and was able to run around to her hearts content, and in the process, rid herself of much of her pent up energy. She became a much calmer, milder Clancy not long after we moved, much to my parents relief.
Clancy hanging out in the backyard.
Clancy would stay with my grandparents when we went away on vacation. My grandfather loved her and would spoil her constantly. Staying at their home was like a vacation for her too because she was fed treats all the time. My parents would always complain about how fat the dog would get when she stayed there. I can recall one time when we returned from vacation and we had stopped by my grandparents house to pick her up. I noticed that Clancy was constantly following my grandfather no matter where he went in the house. When he got up to go into the kitchen, Clancy followed, and so did I. As I peeked in the doorway I witnessed my grandfather reaching into a large jar filled with briny liquid filled with floating pickled pigs feet (my grandfather ate some weird things). He then proceeded to toss one of the pigs feet in the air and Clancy jumped up and gobbled it down. I started to laugh and my grandfather told me not to tell my parents, so I was happy to be "in" on the "secret" to Clancy's weight gain.
Clancy lived to the ripe old age of 15 1/2. In the end she was blind, back legs were paralyzed and she had had a skin disorder that made her break out into scabs. Once the scabs fell off she had bald patches where the hair never grew back. She also had a huge scar on her back leg which initially had a huge tumor, but Clancy just ate it off! It was the most disgusting thing ever, but when we took her to the vet, the vet was not surprised that she ate the tumor off, apparently he had seen it before, and assured us that it was nothing to be concerned about. Towards the end, Clancy was quite sad looking. My parents could not bring themselves to let go because she was so feisty, dragging herself around the house while still maintaining a cheery disposition. The decision finally came when Clancy began to give up. She would just lay around the house, whining, it seemed like she was just giving up on life. It was really hard to watch. Once we found blood in her urine we were very concerned. It was at this point we knew her time with us was coming to an end. It was January 1987 when she finally left us.
This was taken when sometime in the early 80s. She loved hanging out on our beds.
It was incredibly sad when Clancy passed away. My whole family was sobbing over her before they took her to the vet for one last time. It was one of the few times I saw my father cry. Pets have always been huge part of the family in our home. Later that same week my grandfather had passed away, and although we were incredibly sad for the loss, we knew that his spirit would be reunited with Clancy's since they were such good buddies.
