When I was young, we had two cockers.. One was about the meanest, biggest cocker spaniel you'd run in to -- kinda an oxymoron, a mean cocker spaniel. Very protective, and kinda cranky when he didn't get his way. He, his name was Pogo, was a great dog though. The female, her name was Tasha, was the sweetest dog you'd ever find. They were the best of friends.
They didn't have any health problems to speak of, until they were old. Pogo lived to be 15, Tasha 16. My parents bought the male first, then decided that he needed a friend so they got the female a few months later. I think my dad found out about Pogo when he saw a sign on the side of the road.. "Puppies for sale" or something like that. Then they found Tasha through a breeder.