10:41 p.m. - 06 July, 2009
My Buddy
"If having a soul means being able to feel love and loyalty and gratitude, then animals are better off than a lot of humans." ~ James Herriot
We adopted Buddy about five months before I turned 14. My family and I were in the mall because I needed glasses. While we waited for them, we split and went off in pairs to meander around. Mom managed to wander into the humane society's annex. While there, she walked over to this chocolate-colored dog sitting all alone in a pen. She said, "Aww, what are you doing, Buddy?" Buddy responded by running over to her, standing on his hind legs, and putting his paws into her hands. He looked up at her with his soulful, gold gaze, and she knew that he had to come home with us. Mom dashed out into the mall to bring all of us to this dog. I think it was love at first sight.
When we brought him home, Buddy was only 40 pounds of puppy. He was about six months old, and he had been at the humane society for his entire life. For the first few months, he frolicked and destroyed his way through a second puppyhood. People instantly loved him--I was stopped numerous times over the years so fellow walkers could admire him. There was something about Buddy that was endearing. It only took one look, one handshake, one wag of the tail.
His greatest trick was retrieving the newspaper from the front yard. If there wasn't one in our yard, he would scour the neighborhood to find one in someone else's. He did it all for the treaty! I taught him to shake paws/hands, but it turned into a habit of paw/hand-holding instead. He was all love and snuggles.
Buddy was the perfect companion. He endured my sister and I dressing him up as various characters, and he often wanted to cuddle in bed at night. He jumped on trampolines, pulled the neighborhood kids on inline skates, escaped from the backyard like a Houdini, ate cement, chewed retainers, threw garbage around the yard, ballroom danced with my sister, climbed on a table and ate a chocolate cake once, starred in more than one photo shoot and neighborhood movie, played more games with us than I can count, guarded the house, chased cats, snatched scarves from clothes' lines, ate Grandpa's Tums after dinner, stole Barbie dolls from my sister's drawers, sat in dad's recliner like a lapdog, moved across country with us, welcomed Molly-dog into our home, pounced on me when nobody else could get me out of bed on a Saturday, wore boxers in the winter to protect his dry skin, sported sweatshirts when it snowed, watched movies with the family, became my running partner, comforted me when I cried, scolded me when I came home from college every single time, protected me from icky boys, celebrated every holiday with us, and even approved of Mike the first time that I brought him home.
My wonderful Buddy dog died today. He was 14. He'll always be my first furry love.
