I've tried to write a few blogs lately and it's just not working out for me. I might change my format entirely soon. Not sure. Trying to weigh my social media learning with my personal application of it....
But I think I've just had a lot weighing on me and that's been the biggest writer's block.
We didn't make the official announcement about Buddy because things have been so busy outside our own lives. I'd venture to say some people are sick of us talking about it. I guess I, myself, never realized how much a pet could mean. I guess I should have. I loved Bandit and had a hard time with her passing years ago, but I had chalked myself off to not being a pet person in my adulthood.
We got Buddy about 7 years ago. The story goes that a friend of a friend of a friend was trying to unload him after a divorce and that he was an "outside dog." My sister called me asking if I could take him on because she was already dealing with a pack of her own. So with compassion for her we took him on. Or rather -Phil wanted a big dog, so *I* took him on since he was an "outside dog." I remember Buddy (he came with the name), loved running in the backyard but never seemed quite happy in his dog house. We gave him a sleeping bag which he promptly... ehem... well I guess he needed a boyish outlet. But the first night it stormed he refused to go in his doghouse and tore up our backdoor trying to get in. We tried to keep him out for about 3 days and finally let him in.
He never left.
Buddy was an inside dog. He had trouble with women, he was overly cautious around them... but he LOVED Phil. As years went by I sort of wondered if his "mommy" got him in the divorce out of spite and pushed him outside. See, he was an amazingly trained dog. He could sit, lay down, and listen; he had a lot of personality. Poor guy was potty trained beyond normal (he would hold it until you got home no matter how long). He had a nervous belly and didn't like stress, change, or moving. He was so much more than an outside dog, and it took him a few years to feel comfortable with us... but once he did, his whole personality came out.
He actually got louder and more protective after being fixed. He took care of my kids even when daddy was playing. He looked like Eeyore when they tried to ride him, but he never bit. He just loved being loved and he LOVED everyone. The more terrified someone was of him (and he was sort of massive) the more he wanted them to love him. He hated being left alone. He was scared of thunder... and I think that was what did him in.
May 3rd as family started to arrive in town for a wedding, we had a very minor thunder storm. Buddy had been looking pretty awful all day. Had stopped eating again for the 3rd time. His eyes were sunken. But that thunder sent him straight up. He paced for a bit and then wandered off once the thunder subsided. Phil left for his men's meeting and about 15 minutes later I found Buddy by the kitchen table. Close to family. He was gone.
I have to take a minute to tout BiCity Pet Cemetery and Crematorium. They came and helped us after 5 on a weekday in a time where I was alone in the house with the kids. They were respectful and understanding. Unflinching when I cried. They came to my home to help us at a very difficult time.
It's been one week and a day since Buddy passed and it's hard still. Every time I open the front door and the deadbolt key gives a squeak, I realize I don't have any-puppy to push out of the way. There is no massive dog bounding out the door to greet visitors first; no dog to smile apologetically about when he blocks the way in. I realize he was like one of my kids. A very big, special one. We had him only a few years less than my oldest and a few years more than my youngest daughter. He needed me like they do. He pouted. When he was scared he crawled under me because he couldn't grab me like my girls do.
It's so much quieter here. No barks, no one following into the girls bedroom at bedtime anymore, no scratches at the back door, no one to throw the nasty cartilagey bits of meat to anymore, no one to be cautious about because he always sleeps beneath the place you're sitting. There is no worried pup nuzzling me when I don't feel well.
Lord help me, I'm such a wimp over stuff like this. I'm just as bad or worse with people. I like a lot of people and I give my compassion to many... but the loss of a life always affects me. It's just something I haven't resolved yet. I know life is temporary, but I'm still clinging on. Ultimately I need time to adjust a little. It's like we hit a brick wall.
So, we'll recover a bit and keep going knowing that we had a damn fine dog.
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