It doesn't change my current life much, but a big piece of my past is gone... and I'm crying inside.
Buddy, my parents' old lab mix, had been having a hard time walking. He barely could stand anymore, even with a lot of help. Then over Christmas he began refusing food. I saw him one last time over a video Skype call, curled up on his bed, so tired and that "spark" was gone. My parents euthanized him this last week. He was 13 1/2.
I remember the first time I saw him. I was a teenager and was taking one of my neighborhood "walks". I was almost home and saw a big yellow dog just sitting on the corner looking very depressed. I thought I recognized him as a local dog named Oscar. I whistled and he came running as fast as his legs could carry him. We walked together to Oscar's house, but there was Oscar sitting right where he belonged behind his own fence.
Who was this? And what do I do with him now? He was sooo happy to have a new friend I wasn't going to be able to get rid of him easily and I already had 2 dogs at home. Then I noticed that he really didn't look as much like Oscar as I had first thought. I also noticed how skinny he was, not just "thin". He had no identification other than a beat up old red collar and a big ragged scar on his forehead. I did what any other animal crazy kid would do; I took him home.
As luck would have it, he went right up to my mom, politely wagged his tail and then put is feet on her shoulders. She fell in love with him and couldn't turn him away. We never regretted that choice and we were never able to find out anymore about his past either.
He very much turned out to be a blessing in disguise. Our old collie loved puppies, but Britte, our 6 month old ACD/GSD? mix was a bit more than she really wanted to deal with. Buddy filled that slot wonderfully. He was mellower than Britte was (probably just under a year old), but older, bigger and could take her abuse. They became great friends and was always kind of her "sidekick". The two of them were my hiking buddies and the 3 of us shared many many adventures.
He is the only dog to date I have put a reliable, off-leash heel on. None of the merit being mine of course, he was just very good at sticking close. The only real faults he had were both related. He chewed through ropes (and leashes) because he hated being left behind; he also climbed the back yard fence (only to run around to the front and sit in the front yard until we noticed him). His favorite game was catching tennis balls; the pride glowed in his eyes every time he caught one. One day I threw the ball a little bit wrong when he wasn't ready for it and it hit him
lightly in the head. He would only catch food after that. He taught me a lot about very soft dogs.
He always seemed a little lost after I went to college and Britte died at the too-young age of 7. If it had been solely a matter of personal preference, I would have taken him in a heartbeat, but life happened to me and he was a perfect dog for my parents. He loved the benefits of a quieter life anyway, with some grandkid excitement (but not too often), and the occasional long romp with my dad in the hills.
Run without pain Buddy. I sure will miss you. I'm crying for real right now. Say hi to Britte for me old boy. And Daisy says you two had better save a big juicy bone for her.
Goodbye old friend...
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