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My parents got him from the human society while I was at one of my basketball games. I came home to a white fuzz ball of a puppy with cinnamon color spots. He looked up at me with the face of a golden retriever. He went for three days without an official name. After those days, we defaulted to "Buddy" because we'd been calling him that anyway, and it was the only name mom would okay.
He became my dog.
I trained him at the National Guard Armory, a forty then fifty pound dynamo being led by a ten year old girl. He listened. He trained well.
One morning, a week before Christmas, we awoke to Buddy peeing on the Christmas tree. We couldn't yell at him--it was a tree. He probably figured we'd installed an indoor bathroom just for him.
He was an escape artist. He hated being kept indoors during the day. If we kept him in, he would bark and pace and whine until we put him out on his runner. However, he'd manage to get off his runner when we were out during the day and be sitting in the carport when we arrived home, giving us a look of, "What took you so long?"
He hated the rain. He would hold his body functions until it stopped raining. One day it was 1pm and he'd yet to go outside. I let him up from the basement (it was cooler down there) and opened the sliding glass door for him. He looked at me, looked outside, looked at me again, turned and went back downstairs.
I guess he didn't have to go too badly.
He hated baths. He got them bi-weekly and I would have to wrestle his eightly pound frame into the bathtub. Then he'd glare at me while i washed him, shook and splashed around as much as possible, so it was hard to tell who exactly had the bath. When he was done and dry, he would lick me and wag his tail, as if to say he was sorry for all the trouble, he'd forgotten what it was like to be clean.
He watched over me when I was sick.
He protected me from my father when he tried to hurt me, Buddy would attack him. He got a beating for it and I screamed when I heard him cry.
He licked my tears when I cried.
He gave me what my parents did not--unconditional love.
He passed away in his sleep last night at fourteen.
posted
Oh my god, mack, I'm so sorry!!! I have no idea what I'll do when my dog Tallulah inevitably reaches that end... I know it was hard enough for me to leave my dog in England when I moved away. I cried and cried. Oh geez, I'm even crying now.
(((((((((((((((((((((Mack)))))))))))))))))))))
I am so so sorry... I hope everything goes easier for you.
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I'm so sorry mac. I've lost many dogs over the years, but two of them I've never gotten over; I still feel like crying when I think of them. I'm not saying I know what you're going through. Everyone's grief is their own. But I am sorry. Your post was a great tribute to him.
Posts: 16059 | Registered: Aug 2000
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I'm so sorry to hear about your loss, Mack. My dogs are my best friends and I don't know what I will do without them when the time comes. Buddy sounds like an incredible dog - you were lucky to have eachother. *hugs*
Posts: 1225 | Registered: Feb 2002
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Good dogs prove to us not only that we're lovable, but that it's okay for us to love in return. Acting on that lesson is a tribute to the pet, and to yourself.
I am sorry that you lost your longest running friend. Whatever right is in this world will still have him watching over you and protecting you through out your life. (Although, I am sure you'd rather have him there at your side.)
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I am so sorry for your loss of Buddy. His sprit lives with you forever. Just look at his favorite spot, he is there for you. He even makes some noise and let you know he is with you. You gave him a wonderful life.
Posts: 333 | Registered: Feb 2002
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Awww Mack, I'm so sorry. I got a cocker spaniel, Shamus, for my sixth birthday and he passed away when I was in college fifteen years later. It's tough to lose one who has been such a big part of your life.
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"Good dogs prove to us not only that we're lovable, but that it's okay for us to love in return. Acting on that lesson is a tribute to the pet, and to yourself."
How true. The grief of losing a pet is the purest grief of all, untainted by all those tendrils of guilt that connect people to each other, and which are hard to resolve after the death of the person.
Posts: 10890 | Registered: May 2003
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My condolences Mack. But remember that Buddy will be waiting for you on the other side of the Rainbow Bridge.
Posts: 986 | Registered: Jul 2001
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"Also, pets can often be truer friends than any person."
True, and it is often hard to express to others how sad you are because they think, what is their problem? It is just a dog, cat, whatever.
Posts: 10890 | Registered: May 2003
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I'm so sorry Jamie. What a beautiful memorial you've created for him. I especially enjoyed the picture of him peeing on the Christmas tree. That made me smile through the tears welling up.
A question: what exactly holds a family together? On describing my dog and his place in my family, and my family's current situation entirely as a non-family (my little sister lives with her boyfriend, dad lives alone in the house and won't talk to me, mom moved out a year ago and lives with her boyfriend and won't speak to me or my sister, I live two hours away and refuse to speak to either of my parents, but will talk to my sister), I was told, "I think Buddy held your family together. He was the only true part of it."
And I think that's an apt description of my non-family.
But what is normal family interaction? Being a social worker, I work almost entirely with dysfunctional families and sick kids. These kids and their illnesses threaten to tear apart the fabric of the families they live in. But in some way, they manage to hold themselves together. Perhaps through unconditional love? There are parents who make mistakes, parents who are overwhelmed, undereducated, don't know what to do. However, they love their children and it is always, always obvious when the love is there.
Brettly and Ela, Amka and Belle, Olivia and Patrick...heck, all of the Hatrack parents take a great deal of interest in the lives of their children. They find them fascinating people (so I can see).
How is it that my parents don't have the least bit of curiosity in what I do?
I'm not whining. I'm intensely curious. They are very, very different from parents I know and parents that I work with. How common or uncommon are they?
Posts: 14745 | Registered: Dec 1999
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