While I write this I am choking back sobs and looking through tear filled eyes as we are here to share that we lost a best friend last night, Buddy. Anyone who knows Grant and I knows about our first born, Buddy B.
Buddy was a Tennessee pound puppy who beat the odds at surviving his first days on life. He and all of his little puppy brothers and sisters were found in a tied up grocery bag on the side of the road in the middle of summer. Buddy was the only survivor. A few weeks later he was rescued by Grant from the local pound in Knoxville. Grant was living in his fraternity house at the time, so much to many of his brothers chagrin and a friends home address (the pound wouldn't release Buddy to Grant with the fraternity house address) Buddy was brought home.
So now Buddy had a dad and 2 months later, I came into the picture and eventually he had a mom. Granted this was not the best relationship to start with. He was always jumping all over the place, literally running across the back of the sofa cushions, humping everyones legs, escaping the house and sprinting through fraternity row, pooping in Rob Smith's shoe and eating makeup and blowpops including the sticks and wrappers. First of all we don't know how he survived the college years, he ate bottle caps and cigarette butts, was deathly afraid of fireworks BUT Grant did not allow people to give him beer. Maybe that was the saving grace.
Fast forward through his college years (well educated dog) to living in Mobile with Grant's parents where he insisted on pooping in the bushes and running up and down the stairs. He lived in an apartment in Atlanta then lived with my parents temporarily and ate raw hamburger off of the counter and made Russ think he was losing his mind because he just knew he had already taking it out of the freezer and it was gone. Next to DeLand, horrible place to live, but we did manage to teach him to stay in the yard without a leash, moved up in the world to a house in Ormond Beach where he was deathly afraid of the roaming peacocks and finally his final home and resting place in Fleming Island.
Buddy was everybody friend, he may have looked like a wolf but he was a gentle giant. Topping out around 70 pounds he could still be pushed over without effort, loved to shred toys, eat treats and thought that he was a lap dog.
Buddy started out as Grant's dog, quickly became the house dog (did I mention Grant got him to get the attention of girls) and eventually became a big brother to Tootie.
So on to his final days...Buddy had been losing a little bit of weight though I'm not sure considering how much Adelaide tried to feed him. He had slowed down tremendously, but definitely had his spirit. Grant was in Nashville for the weekend and on Sunday Buddy threw up a couple of times, but seemed relatively ok. He spent the day in and out of the house, but didn't drink or eat anything. Sunday night we kept him in the master bath in case he wasn't done being sick it would have been easier to clean up if he were in a confined space.
Monday morning I got up, took him outside and he seemed fine granted he was slow. Adelaide tried to give him a bite of her bagel which she always does and he wouldn't take it. I guess I knew that the end was near because a took a few quick pictures of him with Adelaide before I started to get ready for work. I noticed that the bathroom tile had a bunch of brown drool marks, but I didn't know why. I put Buddy back in the bathroom, left for work and was sure all day long that he would bounce back, he always does.
Skip to Monday evening when I got home and went to let him outside and he wouldn't move. He was all sprawled out on the floor, panting heavily but would barely look at me. I started to panicking, called Grant to get home NOW, called Russ to come over and help and called the vet to make sure they didn't close before we got there.
Grant got home a few moments later and Buddy still wouldn't move. After some debate we let Tootie give him one last hug and Grant sat on the floor with him for a little while until Russ could get there. Buddy's breathing had become more shallow as Grant and Russ moved him onto his bed so that they could carry him out to the car. Russ took Adelaide home and Grant and I sped to the vet. Maybe a mile down the road I looked back and Buddy had become lifeless.
A mile later we were at the Vet, I ran inside to get help, but by that time he was already gone. The doctor ran out and confirmed what we knew in our hearts to be the end. The Vet is pretty sure that Buddy had a liver problem, but we won't be doing an autopsy to find the definite problem. He was 11 years old and we are thankful that he was able to make the decision on when to leave this world. I firmly believe that he waited for Grant to get home last night in order to say goodbye. I find it amazing what our bodies allow us to do.
So now we are overwhelmed by the support that so many of our friends and family have given us and we are going through our mourning period. Besides the actual loss, the hardest thing for me this morning was when I heard Adelaide get out of her bed and walk around the house calling Bubba, Bubba, Bubba. We sat on the floor and talked about Buddy going to heaven and that he was bye-bye now. I know she doesn't really understand and that she was saying bye bye bubba only because I had just said it, but it makes me hurt for her because she has lost her friend. The one person who didn't yell at her when she whacked him, he was always there when she went to sleep and woke up in the morning and would sit on the floor with her when she read books. Every morning Adelaide would give Buddy a treat before we left the house and today was no exception. She went into the pantry and looked for his box of treats and cried when she couldn't find them. I have to say that I cried too.
Tonight we will be avoiding the house a little bit and taking Tootie to story time at the library after school. Hopefully the house will feel less and less empty and time goes on.
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