Sparty was traumatized by my use of a wheelchair and crutches, and I think this precipitated severe health problems for him. He developed diabetes and Cushing's disease, barely able to stand when I convinced Chuck we had to relieve his suffering and have him put down. He was only about 6 years old. Empty water bowls are heartbreaking. The next day we went to the Humane Society, and all they seemed to have were pit bulls, German shepherds and puppies. I asked at the reception desk if they knew where the Nampa pound was, and they came unglued that I wasn't going to adopt one of theirs. Then they admitted they had sent a lot of their adoptables to Petsmart that day. We went there, and across a crowded room, Chuck saw a scruffy terrier. Age 5. His age and ours, or either, made this a no-cost adoption. Then we found out he should be groomed. $40 every two months. He's a wire fox terrierXother terrier (I think Jack Russell), who had been fed out of the refrigerator because he helped me look in the early days. It took several days for him to get interested in the dog food we put down for him. Humane Society said he loved other animals. He tries to attack the 200 lb. St. Bernard next door through the fence, and attacks the television screen if any animal such as pandas, horses, dogs, cats, bears, dinosaurs, or even President Clinton or the Pope are on. Sometimes he changes the channel, sometimes he turns off the set. We renamed him Tathers (the supposed name of a canine protagonist in Dion Boucicault's 19th century drama, "The Shaughraun" and he likes his name), because I didn't like his original name (Norman is not a dog's name). It should have been "Tatthers," but Chuck never learned to sound out words properly, in spite of his Ph.D. That's something he should have learned in first or second grade. He's a character. Sparty was a love, but a lot more predictable than this guy. Margaret L >What happened to Sparty (?sp), Margaret?