buddy as a puppy image

Buddy
August 2007 – January 1, 2018

Goodbye my friend. My best friend. You missed me oh so much when I was gone for months at a time with work. I could tell by the way you greeted me when I finally came home. True, you had the rest of the family to keep you company, not to mention squirrels and rabbits to chase, but they weren’t me. Occasionally UPS and FedEx stopped by just to see you. Or so you believed. Those packages were just some kind of toll for getting in the yard. Sometimes they even brought you treats so you knew they came just to see you. Perhaps they did. Maybe they would have stopped by even if they didn’t have packages to deliver.

Did you know when I wrote “I Wuv My Pillow” that you would be leaving me? You certainly didn’t act like it. At 4:30 on the dot you rose from your slumber and climbed into my lap to let me know it was time for our evening constitutional along the pine trees. You didn’t even need a watch to know what time of the day it was. You dearly loved the pine trees but you never liked to go there alone. Wouldn’t go more than a few away from the yard if you couldn’t look over your shoulder to see one of us watching out for you, protecting you.

One certainly wouldn’t have known it a few weeks ago during that unseasonably warm weather. You got to do one of your most favorite things, ride in the truck, as you helped me picking up those piles of trees left by this fall’s cutting crew. Well, me picking up while you frolicked in the tall grass of the fence line. We made a lot of trips then, from the fence line back to the burn pile out back.So many trips on a couple of days you lost interest in the ride, choosing instead to focus on the rabbit you knew had to be hiding around there somewhere.

You loved that cutting crew. All of them came just to see you. Calling them over to pet you or give you a bite of their lunch. Yeah, you had that effect on people.

Even this past Saturday, though you had puked a few times, when we went for a walk you ran as hard as ever after that bunny we spooked. You needing to hurl a couple of times per year wasn’t that uncommon. You always found something to eat you shouldn’t and that lesson never seemed to stick with you more than eight months.

Do you remember your favorite red squirrel. We haven’t seen him for a few years. The hawks or the falcons probably did him in. Oh how he loved to torment you. Remember the day we both came out of the house and he wasn’t six feet from a tree yet chose to run clear down around the bins and crib all the way back up to the other yard where he climbed a tree, then over to another then all the way around the roof of that two story house? Oh, you couldn’t remember that part. It was a full half a minute later before you managed to make the same circuit to the first tree. You never saw the squirrel on the roof, breathing so hard it looked like he was belly laughing at you. If he had human hands he would have put his thumbs in his ears waving his fingers shouting “Nya nya na na na.”

How about that time he was not twelve feet from that same first tree and opted to make a diagonal run to the tree by the old tool shed? It was the first time you ever guessed his path correctly. I stood in wonder. Mostly I was wondering if you knew what to do once you caught him. I wish I had been filming it. You were both about one step from crashing into each other. Both looking where you were running and not at each other. That split second before impact you both jumped in the air, backwards, about three feet. You stood there stunned and the squirrel went back to the tree he should have climbed in the first place.

Do you remember when two of my cousins came with all of those young kids? One was deathly afraid of dogs, but he asked to throw the rope for you. Yeah, you had that effect on people.

Do you remember the little girl, still in diapers. All of your racing around trying to decide which kid’s love you wanted to sponge up first caused you to misjudge the distance on one turn. Your butt banged into her and down she went. Both parents racing over, expecting the water works to start. How shocked were they when she rolled the rest of the way over to her feet and chased after you with arms outstretched calling “doe doe”? Yeah, you had that effect on people.

I must confess I had not always been kind describing you to others. More than once I said to a person “You’ve heard the expression ‘not the sharpest tool in the shed’ right? Well, Bud didn’t make it in the shed.” It might have been true, but it wasn’t kind. It also overlooked the fact it took you less than five seconds to make it into someone’s heart. Yeah, you had that effect on people. Perhaps you were the sharpest tool of all?

Do you remember that time this year when we took our walk after a rain? We got to the end of the pine trees and saw that double rainbow. You were the brighter one, I know that now.

Do you think the universe arranged for us to spend your last year together? Causing me to turn down all of those contracts alternating between calling them shit (in my defense, many were) or using the excuse of needing to help on the farm. Was it what you prayed for when you slept? Let this be the year I wouldn’t leave so we could spend as much time as possible together? Try to get in all of those walks we couldn’t have again?

Was it the universe which made me find those two bottles of Trak auto brand carpet and upholstery cleaner in the storage area of the basement a few months ago? Dad had bought them decades ago and put them downstairs for safe keeping, then forgot about them. Yeah, we humans do that. You could always find where you buried a bone but we can’t find where we put our car keys. Did you know that was the cleaner I was using when you got sick in my office?

Did you know when I was calling around this morning that we didn’t have much time left? I certainly didn’t. I just thought you had the flu. Our regular vet was out taking care of a calf suffering from hypothermia. We didn’t know that of course, just that I had to leave a message. We didn’t know that until he called back and we were already headed up north to a place more than an hour away. The closest place open on New Year’s Day. You were stretched out on your favorite comforter. You used to like to ride in the Jeep. Not as much as the pickup and certainly not as much as your all-time favorite, the bucket truck. It had only one seat so you got to ride in the front and see everything and occasionally walking over for some love sponging while I was driving to the building site which needed work done.

How could you be chasing a rabbit on Saturday just as happy as if you had good sense and not be with me today? When they showed me the blood work I was stunned. How could you be so sick today and so happy then? You didn’t catch the rabbit, you rarely did. You seemed to enjoy the chase more than the capture. That meant the rabbit would be there for our next walk together. Does the rabbit know how lucky it was today? Will it miss you? It was your primary source of exercise and, judging from the hours you spent in “hot pursuit,” I think, you were its.

Did you know I recognized someone in that place. They must have driven over an hour too. Can’t remember the name. I see him at the nursing home when I visit dad. I was always going to get you freshly bathed and take you to see him. Technically you were his dog. He’s the one who brought you home, I’m the one you chose.

Do you remember on his birthday a couple of years ago when we took him on a tour of the farms to see the crops and I took you over to see him? You got to climb up and be petted by him again. It seemed to mean a lot to him and think you enjoyed it too. Almost as much as the ride to and from.

You were still with me when I saw the person I recognized coming out of the back with his wife. They were carrying a leash and hurrying out. I didn’t try to speak to them. Something told me not to. They had taken a small black dog to the back with them. This place couldn’t do long term care.

Do you know when they told me there was little hope, given how much was wrong with you that I called home and your family made the decision? Your suffering was now obvious and it was going to get worse. At best, a couple of agonizing weeks or months. Never able to take your constitutional along the pine trees or chase a rabbit again. In truth they told me the aggressive treatment they had to offer had to turn you around overnight and the odds were a bit long. In short, you had an agonizing night to look forward to and little hope of seeing the morning sun.

You never acted sick. Always an excessive appetite and always ready for a walk. I think you even liked that “Buddha Belly” nickname you had for years. Always rolling it over for a rub when you heard the name, even if you had been loudly snoring when we said it.

Do you know I was petting you when you went? A hand of comfort a friend should offer and your best friend damned well better. You didn’t go alone, surrounded by strangers. Your best friend continued petting you until your heart stopped. The doctor then confirmed you were gone. It took only seconds. Dealing with you being gone will take much longer.

Do you know the religious terrorists who get elected to office have passed a law which won’t let my friends and loved ones give this final gift to me? When I’m sick and past medical hope I will have to ride it out. I won’t get the gift of a loved one putting a soothing hand on me while a doctor eases my journey out of this life.

They had me pull up around back while they wrapped you in a sheet. We carried you out past the table where the rear of that little black dog poked out from under a it’s burial blanket. Wrapped in your sheet you were once again in the back of your Jeep on top of your comforter.

As a child I read a Peanuts cartoon where Lucy asked Linus “Why do we teach babies to wave bye bye?” He responded “Because for the rest of their lives people will be leaving them.” I remember that cartoon at times like this. People who try to say the Sunday comics aren’t educational must have never actually read them.

I had to stop for gas on the way home. It was a long drive, wasn’t it. Longer for me coming home. Well past lunch I wheeled into the drive-up at the truck stop after getting fuel. Young kids laughing and joking about the parties and times they had last night. It is New Year’s Day after all. Did they see you wrapped in your sheet? Did they know it was you? Yeah, you have that effect on people. Do you think they know our best friends have such a short time with us? Do you think they know that if they choose to receive the love of someone like you that this journey is in their future as well?

Did you notice I had the interior of that Jeep detailed last week? I did it because it was a pit after harvest. All corn chaff and crumbs. I wanted it clean when I went to visit friends tomorrow, but now I think the universe wanted it pristine for your final ride. Here I am eating a sandwich in it, getting crumbs all over your pristine ride.

Did you know I didn’t eat all of the fries? You always loved it when we didn’t eat all of the fries. I even said to myself “I’ll have to toss these in Bud’s bowl…” Yeah, there will be a lot of moments like that in the coming months.

Would it be so bad if our best friends lived as long as us or we as short as them? True, many of us would never get old enough to drive, but we would always be bathed in unending love. That’s something isn’t it? Perhaps it is everything? Yeah, you have that effect on people.

I’ll never have another dog. I’ve said that several times before, then you showed up. And I really meant it before you showed up. Yeah, you have that effect on people.

Even though I washed them good before you ever used them, did you know you were eating and drinking from the same bowls dogs before you used? I suspect you did. They were best friends too. None of them wanted those daily constitutionals along the pine trees though. That was uniquely ours.

Do you know that we buried you in a gap in those pine trees? They were your favorite place. Maybe they were our favorite place. Despite the snow we dug the earth by hand, cutting through roots and all. The sun will always shine on you part of the day. There wasn’t even a question in my mind when they asked. Your best friend was damned well going to lay you to rest in your favorite part of the planet. He was going to take you home. It wasn’t the only place you had known. Your first few months as a puppy you lived with people who had cats and, well, dad went and got you. You went from a little house in town to a big farm yard and those pine trees you loved.

I hope where you go there are lots of trees with plenty of knee-high grass fence rows. May it be teeming with squirrels and rabbits and may you never tire of the chase. If you ever do tire, I hope they give you your two pillows and favorite comforter.

Yeah, you have that effect on people.