It seemed like just the other day that he was a pup, young, eager, full of life and love and needing someone to call his own. The first year was more nightmarish than enjoyable; crazy puppy antics and destructive teeth were sources of much frustration and discouragement. Then came adulthood, maturity and growing up. Once he settled down and focused we became inseparable. We did everything together from daily walks, fetch, and training sessions to agility, obedience and eventually winning ribbons at the fair. What I would always cherish most about him, however, would be his endless love and companionship. To him alone I could whisper my deepest thoughts and secrets and he would never tell a soul. His devotion proved unwavering and his love unquestionable. He offered no criticism and presented no problems. He was my friend and my companion; he was my Buddy.
His cold, wet nose on my hand jolted me back to the present and I looked at the dog that my Buddy had become. I gently patted his bony head with the sunken, pitiful
eyes, then looked at his emaciated frame, hips jutting out and ribs clearly visible, merely a shadow of the lively dog he had once been.
“Dear GOD, why did You let this happen?” I demanded as I struggled to hold back tears. “You KNOW how much I love Buddy, yet You are taking him away from me so soon.” He was only two and a half years old.
My family and I had done everything in our power, everything that our hearts—and pocketbooks—would allow, to try to save this creature who had started in our home and ended up in our hearts. The multiple vet visits and blood tests, all came back normal. And none of the the pills and prescriptions, medications and diet changes, cured or improved our beloved pet. Countless phone calls, internet researches and prayers only left us with broken hearts and many unanswered questions.
Many times I relied on faith in God to help me through but just as many other times I had questioned and blamed God for what had occurred over the past three months. While deep in my heart I knew that was wrong, I could find no other way to justify the tragedy which was taking place and the unavoidable decision which I had to make.
The gusty autumn wind ripped its chilly fingers through my hair and sent shivers up my spine as I slowly walked into the house. I knew what I had to do.
It was Friday so we decided to spend one last weekend with him. His last few days we made as comfortable and memorable as possible with extra treats, last pictures and one final walk together, all the while trying to forget the unavoidable.
Buddy was tired and weak and I talked to him as we strolled to keep my spirits alive.
“Remember how you used to love the water and we had to walk to the creek every day so you, silly dog, could splash and chase rocks.”
I stopped to let him rest a minute.
“Remember how you used to love to fetch dad’s golf balls for him? He was never a big animal person but you were always, ‘his dog,’ Buddy,” I reminded him.
“Remember when…” but my voice choked up and I couldn’t go on.
The walk ended all too soon and so did the weekend. Monday arrived, cold and raining and nature itself seemed to feel our sorrow. There were many tearful goodbyes and last minute hugs as Mom and I loaded Buddy into the van for one last trip.
Halfway to the vets, with Buddy on my lap, I begged Mom to turn around.
Once at the vet clinic we were hurried back to an examining room where the vet put Buddy on a table.
“This first pill only puts him into a deep sleep,” the vet explained.
I moved Buddy to my lap as he drifted into a sleep from which he would never awake. Through my tears I reminded him how much I loved him and of the good times we had shared.
“He was such a good dog,” mom whispered.
Soon the vet came back with a needle in his hand.
“This will only take a minute,” he said sympathetically, “It will stop his heart but he won’t feel a thing.”
My heart was pounding and every part of my body screamed NO as the needle was injected. At that moment I called upon God for help and strength like I never had before.
It was all over in seconds and the life and breath of the dog who had been my best friend and companion for two short years was gone.
The ride back was silent and cold; I felt numb and couldn’t have cried even if I wanted to.
When we arrived home everyone was waiting in the front yard by a newly dug grave and the grey clouds and dripping sky reflected our grief. Buddy was to be interred into the ground he had loved the most.
Everyone was crying as Buddy was lowered into his final resting place and the first shovel of dirt fell on him. I had to look away. Poor little Kathleen wanted to know why Buddy wouldn’t wake up.
As I struggled to accept what was happening Mom nudged me.”Regina, look,” she said. I looked up at dad and as he shoveled dirt into the grave, tears rolled down his face. I was shocked and touched. It was the first time that anyone in our family, including mom, had EVER seen him cry. Later he said it was just because all of the kids were so upset but deep down I think that he missed his “golf ball fetching Buddy”.
I will never be able to fully put into words how I felt the days following Buddy’s death. But I do know that I was very sad, angry and confused. Angry at God. He KNEW how much I loved Buddy and He understood how special he was to me. And yet He still took my best friend away.
“Why, Why, WHY?!” I asked Him over and over again as I gradually started to accept the cross that God had given me.
I may never know fully why God took Buddy away from me when He did, the way He did, but I think that I understand now at least a few of the lessons He wanted me to learn.
The experience I had with Buddy strengthened my faith in God like you wouldn’t believe. It was faith that would live forever in the name and memory of my next dog. I learned to place everything I had in God’s hands because He truly knows what is best.
I also think that God wanted me to have Buddy. He knew all of the love that Buddy had and He knew that Buddy’s time on earth was limited. He realized that Buddy needed someone to give his unconditional love to before his time was up. And He knew that I needed Buddy just as much as he needed me, if not more. God also understood that there were life lessons that perhaps only Buddy could teach me. And of course in His almighty knowledge and power He was right. Buddy taught me what true friendship is and the meaning of responsibility and I was able to give him the best days of his life.
Through Buddy, God made me see the light; He made me see love where I thought there was none. He helped me to love the world for what it has to GIVE, not what we can get. He made me appreciate all of the little, simple joys of life that so many, many people take for granted.
The Buddy who left me was gaunt, and thin and lifeless—but that is not the Buddy I will remember. The Buddy I will always remember was full of life, bouncy and happy, always ready to please and a reflection of God’s gift of love and friendship. And on certain breezy, autumn days each year I will walk down Memory Lane with my Buddy, where good times are remembered, faith in God is renewed and dreams really do come true.
Yesterday was the one year anniversary of Buddy's death. I can't believe it's already been a year since he left us. I still miss him terrible and think of him every day but the pain and loss is gone and I remember mostly the good times we had together and the wonderful memories we shared. You are forever in my heart Buddy.
Black fur stretched over a bony skeleton. Every rib visible and hips jutting out. Sunken eyes in an enunciated head. Slow, painful and lifeless. That was my Buddy a few weeks before he died. But that’s not the Buddy I remember.
The Buddy I remember was full of life. Eager and bouncy. Always ready for life’s next adventure. He was fun and attentive and obedient to a fault. His outlook was always bright and his love boundless. And that is how he is in my memory and will always remain.
Dogster Obsessions: The Starter Kit for Dogs by Wildebeest
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