“Life carries on in the people I meet
In everyone that's out on the street
In all the dogs and cats…”
I Grieve (Peter Gabriel)
Roscoe, the wonder beagle, has lived many lives. His puppy months were spent in prison at the Mountain View Correctional Institution in Newland, North Carolina under the care of Willard “Spanky” Smith, inmate #0380696. In October 2015, he was released and adopted by my mother who had a cabin in the mountains of western North Carolina. After she passed a few years later, Roscoe came to live with us in Alexandria, Virginia. And finally, a cross-country trip in 2022 brought us to Bellingham, Washington, and all new dog adventures with Quintana and Roscoe. Now, as Roscoe embarks on his 3rd act (as do Joscelyn and myself), I’m compelled to honor him in life, just as I honored Quintana in death.
This is a happy, positive story.
More Mr. Peabody and less Snoopy, Roscoe is a serious dog. He loves his head scritches, demanding them every morning as I sip my coffee. He zealously guards us, barking his head off at cats lying on driveways across the street. On walks or hikes, where Quintana would constantly look back at us, checking in, Roscoe just marches ahead, his nose working overtime smelling for everyone and everything that’s been in the neighborhood lately and, of course, leaving his own scent everywhere he possibly can. He’s cuddly, nimbly hopping up on the couch to wriggle in next to us. And if we stop petting him, he reaches an insistent paw out as if to say, “Don’t stop. Why are you stopping?”
Starting life in jail usually puts a serious crimp in one’s future life options, but for Roscoe it was the best possible beginning. Spanky treated him well. I have the documentation. As part of Mountain View’s rehabilitation program (“A New Leash on Life”), caring for, training, and raising a puppy taught empathy and responsibility. The journal Spanky kept is full of entries like “This week’s training went very well. Roscoe is very smart and very quick to learn and remember his commands, and his distraction level is very low.”
When Roscoe “graduated” in October 2013, he’d left an indelible impression of Spanky: “I’m really gonna miss Roscoe. He’s a very good, very smart little boy and he’ll be very loyal to his ‘parents.’ Goodbye Roscoe! Be good and remember what we learned! I’ll miss you buddy-Spanky.”
I’m not sure where Roscoe spent the next two years, there is a gap in his history, but in October 2015, Mom and her partner Jim adopted him from the Avery County Humane Society. Thus began a life of wandering through the mountains of western North Carolina. Of course, Roscoe spent most of his time simply lazing around the house, eating the treats from the table that Jim would sneak to him. At night, he slept in a crate but rose at the crack of dawn when Jim would let him out to go wander the property. Beagles follow their noses, and Roscoe’s would take him on hours-long journeys, sometimes ending up miles down the Blue Ridge Parkway and prompting amusing but concerned phone calls, “Uh, Jim, I think we’ve got your dog over here again.”
That’s when we met Roscoe. From the start, we all got along wonderfully with him, Joscelyn and myself, our two boys, and of course, Quintana. During our many visits to the cabin, we all loved roaming the mountainside, hiking down to the creek, and lazing about the deck in the sun. Roscoe would take Quintana on his hillside sojourns, never straying too far, though.
As my mother’s health began to fail we assured her that Roscoe was welcome to live with us. And so, when she died in late 2017 (and Jim shortly thereafter), Roscoe gained another new home with us in Alexandria, Virginia. Though he mellowed some over the next few years, he remained a fanatic about keeping us safe from the foxes and deer that frequently strolled through the yard, furiously erupting in howls at the passing critters. His independent streak not yet tamed, he’d bolt out the door sending us searching in vain on wild goose chases throughout the neighborhood only to receive a call a few hours later, “uh, I think we’ve got your dog, Roscoe, here.”
Two years ago, we embarked on a move across the country to Bellingham, Washington. Roscoe’s resilience, and love of road trips (anytime we ask him if he wants to go for a ride, he twirls and leaps in joyful anticipation of going somewhere in the car) has served him well in another new home. No longer prone to bolt, he’s now a stately, dignified older dog; very cuddly, putting himself to bed by 8:00 PM, or sitting with us watching TV, gently purring (yes, he purrs) and snoring.
The longing and loneliness of Quintana’s absence are slow to fade and I’m certain that Roscoe feels it too. But now as Roscoe becomes an only dog, I’m trusting his resiliency will help carry us all through. He is, after all, a wonder beagle. Though it may seem Roscoe’s had several families, I suspect though its all really one life to him, from Quintana to Joscelyn and me, Gabo and Wilson, Mom and Jim, and of course, his first “Dad,” Spanky.
Recently, I reached out to Mountain View Correctional Institute to send a message of gratitude to Mr. Smith. Here is what I wrote:
Hello-My name is Mark Caicedo. I am trying to reach the former(?) inmate Willard “Spanky” Smith with the following message: My wife and I are the happy guardians of Roscoe, a beagle pup you trained in 2013 (or 14). He’s happy and healthy, if not a bit older, and a joy to be with. We inherited him from my mother when she passed in 2017. She lived on Grandfather Mtn. just outside Blowing Rock, NC where Roscoe ended up after you cared for him. Thank you for raising and taking the time to train him. Your commitment and care helped to shape Roscoe into a great dog, who continues to brighten people’s lives today. Sincerely, Mark
I’ll let you know if I get an answer back.
More later…
(All photographs Mark Caicedo/PuraVida Photography)
Lovely words Mark. So many don’t bother getting to know, really know, their furry kids. You know Roscoe. So cool that you have reached out to Spanky. I hope you hear back.