Buddy was more than just a dog, a pet to me. He was my best friend, my full-time companion who loved me unconditionally, as I did him. I will be able to laugh and smile again someday soon I hope, but I don’t think the heartbreak that I feel now will ever heal.
I adopted Buddy when he was 18 months old through the Beagle Rescue. His first owner began working 14 hour days and knew he couldn’t give Buddy the kind of companionship he deserved. When I went to see Buddy the second time, he was so anxious to get outside the apartment that he took off running through the streets of Hoboken. Although he was having the time of his life, we were chasing after him fearing the heavily trafficked streets of Hoboken. After about 20 minutes or so we finally nabbed him and got him on his leash. Nonetheless, I knew Buddy was the dog for me.
I soon realized that "the chase" was quite a game and fun for Buddy, although not for those fearing for his safety. One of the first things I did when I brought him home was make an appointment with the groomer so he could get a good wash and nail trimming. When I picked him up the dopes down there didn’t put his collar on right, and as soon as I had the leash in my hand, the collar came undone and he took off, once again having fun with the chase. After another 20 minutes of running the opposite way so that he’d chase me, I finally grabbed him, and noticed that he sliced his front paw on some broken glass. So I guess I’ve been taking him to the vet regularly since.
The first night Buddy spent with me he jumped right into bed and started burrowing under the covers. I didn’t know what the hell he was doing but it seemed that he didn’t want to just be ON the bed, but rather IN the bed with me. We soon started spooning every night.
Buddy soon adapted to my laid back lifestyle, and didn’t quite appreciate when I left him alone. In his younger years he chewed up a few remote controls and shoes, and he always had a knack for getting into the garbage can … even when tied down with bunji chords. I can’t count the times that I came home to see garbage ALL OVER the house … coffee grinds, egg shells and yolks, and worse. He’d be cowering under the dining room table because he knew he’d done wrong … but it was his way of saying, “Hey, want to leave me alone like that? This is what you get.”
Early on in June of 2004 Buddy began having chronic diarrhea. He was otherwise fine, but I was concerned nonetheless. Since then we’ve been to the doctor many times, testing for everything from bacterial infections, colitis, and finally the word came in that he had lymphoma cancer on New Year’s Eve. I don’t need to go into details, but his discomfort and pain led me to the most difficult decision of my life, and I had to ease the pain for him.
Buddy and I had so many wonderful years together, and that is what I will remember. Everyone who met him always said he was a great dog, gentle, and had a lot of personality. To me he was more than just a good dog … he was my child who I raised, cared for, and shared life with. I will miss our walks, even the ones in the freezing rain … I will miss cuddling with him under the blankets, rubbing his belly, playing tug of war, and feeding him table scraps.
I will miss everything about you, Buddy. I hope you are at peace, playing with old friends and eating everything your heart desires. I love you.
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