Buddy

In April, the Sunday before we were to close on our first home, Johnie and I decided to stop by the local Humane Society just to look.  I don't remember whose idea it was, but I was completely open to looking.  As we passed by the various cages, a variety of cute and sweet animals peered back at us.  One in particular caught my eye.  He was smaller, puppy-ish, and looked to be a yellow lab.  While all the other dogs were barking or jumping, or completely unaware that they were in a competition with one another, scratching themselves at the back of their cage, this dog sat quietly at the front of his kennel.  I had and have an affection for yellow labs anyway.  When I walked by this one, he stuck his paw out as if to reach me and looked up with big brown eyes.  He slowly withdrew his paw as I walked on by.  Thinking it must have been a coincidence, I took a step back to make eye contact with this pup.  He again reached his paw out through the cage.  I knelt and patted it and he laid his head against the cage.  Johnie was now several feet ahead of me, but I called for him.

"Look at this one, Johnie.  He reached out his paw to me."  Johnie came over and examined him, too.  "This one is really sweet.  He's a good dog."  Johnie knelt.  "Do you want to see if we can play with him?"  I was reluctant.  I wasn't really ready to be a dog owner.  There were too many things going on in our life, I didn't want to keep any animal inside our house, and I was unsure if any dog could ever replace my last dog.  He had been a mutt.  A family friend had found him in a ditch as a very small puppy.  I was in middle school, and my grandfather took me to meet him to see if I wanted to keep him.  My family didn't believe me, but I really had no intention of bringing the puppy back home with me.  But, my grandfather carried him out to the car and held him up for me to see.  His big puppy eyes were bright green, the most beautiful dog eyes I have ever seen, and his fur was fuzzy.  I brought him home, and named him Peanut.  He was a great dog and a great companion to both me and my little brother.  He saw me through what were the most awkward years of my life and passed away while I was in college.

I never really wanted another dog after Peanut.  I didn't think there would ever be another dog as good as him, and didn't want to ever love another animal as much as I loved him.  That day at the Humane Society, Johnie and I played with Buddy.  Like I said, I thought he was very sweet, and beautiful, and obedient.  I knew he would make someone a great dog, just not us.  Johnie asked if I wanted to keep him.  I said no.  I went over the list of reasons why we didn't really need a dog.  Johnie pressed.  After a few minutes I gave in.  Apparently Johnie actually did want a dog, and this dog was a great one.  If he was going to have a dog, I would want him to have a dog like this.  We also reasoned that the house we were getting had a fence, so we could easily keep him outside.  We left the Humane Society with Buddy.

Buddy was a great dog from day one, but it was a tenuous relationship between us.  He was cute and sweet, but I wasn't wanting to get close to him.  We had remembered correctly about our new house having a chainlink fence, but had failed to recognize about a foot and a half of missing fence next to the garage.  We bought a tie out for Buddy until we repaired the fence.  But, before the fence could be repaired, we learned that Buddy could jump/climb the chain link anyway.  It would take a privacy fence to keep him contained.  Johnie was ready to build one that summer.  I dug in my heels, thinking it quite ridiculous to spend that much money on something for a dog (though we all would have liked a privacy fence).

We joked with everyone that Buddy was a trial run for us.  I said we knew that if we couldn't take care of a dog, then we couldn't take care of a child.  This was about a month before the "pregancy scare" and I would remember those words when I thought a child was on the way.  Turns out, we could not take care of Buddy.  He broke tie out after tie out.  When we finally found a tie out strong enough (it was for 250 pound dogs, Buddy weighed less than 30), he broke his collar.  We went through a few collars until one finally held.  Then he started pulling up his stakes.  We've never found a system yet that can fully contain him.  We even bought an invisible fence system that he just braced himself for and pushed through the electric shock.  We promptly dismantled it.  We've never had the opportunity to try a privacy fence, but I wouldn't be surprised if he couldn't dig under, climb, or jump over that as well.  Thankfully, we have found products now that do last several months between breaking, and we always know to have back ups on hand for when the new stuff fails.  Also, our little dog-dinni has taken to just staying (or returning) to our yard after freeing himself over the past couple of years.

It took Buddy a few months to grow on me.  I considered him to be Johnie's dog, and all of his escaping wore on my nerves.  It became pretty obvious to us right away that Buddy probably came from an abusive home.  He flinched at any sudden movements or any noise of almost any volume.  He hoarded food instead of eating it (and not in your typical dog burying their food kind of way), and couldn't get enough petting.  (Seriously, he will still sit for hours to be petted, and will choose being petted over food any day.)  I had pity on his situation, but I did not want to keep him.  I looked for people to give him to.  I fought not to get close to him because I knew he was just going to die in a few years anyway.

During a disagreement over whether Buddy was Johnie's dog or my dog a few months after we adopted him, Johnie said that he didn't even want Buddy, but only got him because he could tell I really liked him and wanted him.  I told Johnie that I was being honest when I said I didn't want him.  I could think a dog was cute or good without taking him home with me.  We decided then to search hard to find Buddy a good home. 

Sometimes on Wichita Freecycle, families would post that they were looking for a dog.  We read those carefully and usually decided that we weren't sure enough to give Buddy to those families.  One day, however, a sweet post came through from a family with a couple little boys and a large privacy fenced yard who I thought would be perfect owners for Buddy.  I shared the post with Johnie and he agreed.  I typed up a response to offer our dog to this family.  I wanted them to know all about him, so (you all won't be surprised) the response became lengthy as I recounted how Buddy would greet us happily after work every day, how he was very obedient and would only bark if a stranger came in our yard - or at the occasional cat.  I thought over how good he had been to me since we had brought him home, and I began to cry.  I began to think how sad it would be not to be greeted by his sweet little face.  I went outside and played with him.  I looked once more into those big brown eyes.  I resolved that this other family would be better for him than Johnie and I had been, and decided to send the e-mail. 

The lady e-mailed back and said they had already taken another dog.  We would not be giving Buddy away.  I resolved to be a better mom to him, and we decided to keep him.  My love for him grew immediately.  He became a part of our family.  We began including him in our Christmas cards.  We began letting a few of our rules with him (such as no digging and no going into the laundry room) slide.  We began to appreciate his personality.  For example, he knew that I was more lenient than Johnie about letting him upstairs.  When he came in the house he would always go straight downstairs.  I didn't mind him being upstairs, so I would call him up after a couple minutes if Johnie wasn't home.  After about three times of doing this, Buddy stopped going downstairs altogether if Johnie wasn't home.  I would let him in and he would just sit on the landing as if to say, "we both know you're going to let me come up here, there's really no need for me to go down there now is there?" 

I'm sure there are probably times and ways that Buddy does fool us, but we usually play along when we catch him trying.  He knew he wasn't allowed in the laundry room, but sometimes we would hear him running to the other side of the basement when he heard us get up in the morning and we'd usually find a toy and a fur covered indent in the pile of dirty clothes (or sometimes a laundry basket of clean clothes that we forgot to put on the washer just in case). 

We began taking him with us on vacations.  Johnie didn't like all the dog hair in the car, and chose not to take Buddy with us on some trips I really wanted to take him on.  When we bought our second car one of my criteria was that Johnie had to be okay with Buddy riding in it.  In our latest search for a home here in Kentucky, Johnie and I have found several places that we would be very comfortable in, but have passed them up in search of something more suitable for our dog.

In his (and our) defense, though, he has been a wonderful companion to us.  He has brought us much laughter, and much comfort.  I never feel like he cares what I look like, how I'm dressed, or even whether or not I need to take a shower.  He's always just ecstatic to spend time with me.  While Johnie does struggle with empathy skills, I've often said that Buddy usually knows better how I'm feeling and how to respond than Johnie does.  I am impressed that he never plays as roughly with me as he does with Johnie, as though he understands mom needs a gentler touch.  In times when I'm happy he'll run and jump and play with me, and in times when I'm sad he'll rest his head on me.  He has laid next to me throughout several colds and similar illnesses.  Most impressive to me, he came up to me after I had some dental work done and licked the side of my face that had been worked on, then spent the rest of the day next to me.  Once he was sitting next to me, happily panting and looking around, when I choked on a drink of water.  It wasn't dramatic, just a couple coughs, but he immediately jerked his head toward me and put his face close to mine for several seconds. 

I knew within a couple months that while Buddy looked and acted harmless, he would do whatever he had to do to protect me.  Johnie disagreed, but conceded I was probably right after seeing Buddy interact with strangers.  One day at the park behind our house, Buddy taught me a great lesson when he ran straight up to an unkempt man who I assume was homeless.  The man patted Buddy, and Buddy sat next to him and allowed it.  I would have been afraid to approach the man for several reasons, but Buddy wasn't.  And while none of us really met any of that man's physical needs that day, Buddy left him with a smile on his face.  On another day at the park, a man who I would have counted as respectable came up to me and began petting Buddy.  It wasn't uncommon for others in the park to approach us to visit with our dog.  Buddy loved it, and we were proud to show how sweet, handsome, and obedient our dog was.  He would always sit and wag his tail until the strangers were finished.  But with this man, Buddy's whole body tensed up, he crouched, and his hair stood on end.  The man kept trying to calm Buddy, but when he started growling lowly, I excused us both from the situation.  I am not sure who that man was or why my dog was so defensive near him, but I trusted Buddy's instincts.  We saw that man numerous times in the park, but I always made sure to stay far from him - and Buddy always barked at him just so we were all clear about keeping our distance.

If those instances weren't enough to convince Johnie of our dog's protective nature, the fact that we watched him run a couple burly construction workers out of our backyard (one of which refused to come back even after we came outside and agreed to hold Buddy while he worked) and that we've had other professionals who have come to our house for estimates for various projects tell us they wouldn't go near our dog was enough.  He also knew how to work this system, too, though, and was not unfriendly to all professionals who entered our backyard.  The same meter reader came around every month and he and Buddy got to know each other.  Buddy befriended this man, but was still aware that he got a treat anytime he barked at a "stranger" in our backyard.  He obviously had a bark that could scare, but did not use it with this gentleman.  We have watched on numerous occassions while Buddy would greet this man at the gate wagging his tail.  On a first name basis, the man would usually say, "Hey Buddy," pet him, and they would both walk over to the meter together.  Buddy would always look at the back door as he passed, and if he saw either me or Johnie standing there, he would sit, bark a couple half-barks, accept his treat, and then go back to say goodbye to his friend.  We always let him by on this technicality he discovered.

I realized shortly after I started writing this post that I could probably dedicate an entire blog to my little puppy.  I hope to entwine his story into ours as I continue to document our life together.  One of my fears of dog ownership from that day in April has been realized.  Buddy nestled his way into my heart much like his persistant prodding when he wants to be petted.  So much so that part of me forgot he is a dog, and that his calendar progresses more quickly than ours.  It hit me this summer when Julian began talking about his wedding.  He let me know that Johnie and I were invited.  And Buddy.  I asked him why he was going to allow dogs at his wedding, and he responded that he wasn't, just Buddy.  I laughed and thought of the day 20 plus years from now when Julian would be getting married.  I am pretty sure he would change his mind (or forget) - even about Buddy - by the time this happens.  The jokester in me thought about showing up at the adult Julian's wedding with Buddy by my side.  I would tell this story and everyone would laugh.  Depending on his wife, I thought, I might have to leave Buddy at home and just share the story.  Then I realized that Buddy will probably no longer be with us for this, but only a memory.  I don't know how much longer we have with him and dread the day we must say goodbye, but I look forward to more sweet and funny moments with him in the meantime.