Today is day 2 of the Blogging from A to Z Challenge. The challenge began with A on April 1 and continues the alphabet throughout the month, except on Sundays. My theme for the month will be this blog’s tagline: life, books, and all things bookish, so you can expect a little bit of this ‘n that. I’m still reading, though, and I’ll add reviews whenever possible. Thirty days of blogging is a huge commitment for me, but I’m looking forward to meeting and greeting new blog friends.
Today’s word is Buddy.
Ten years ago we were looking for a new addition to our family–our three-year-old lab Trixie needed a buddy to keep her company. Our local Humane Society was hosting a Bow Wow Meow Luau (I kid you not!), so it became our first (and only) stop. When I stepped through the door that led to the kennels, I was hit by a wave of sadness. The barking and yelping, the jumping–all pups with no ball tossed in the backyard. No nights by the campfire. No sunbaths on the deck. No people. One of the volunteers greeted us after we had walked around a bit, listened to our story, then stopped and said, “I think I have just the dog for you.”
We turned down another row of kennels and stopped in front of a quiet run. Slumped against the chain link was a fat little beagle mix with a dull brown coat. He wasn’t jumping or pacing. Just waiting. My husband Brent bent down to pet him, then said, “Let’s take him outside.” The volunteer said she thought he was the best dog they had–that she had tried to get other families to look at him, but they wanted a puppy or a lab or a terrier. The best dog?! Our Trixie was a princess of a dog. Impeccable grooming, mannerly, eager to please with a twinkle in her eye. This was a … blob of a dog. He smelled. And his name was Spud–as in the potato.
When we took him to the outside run, the little guy played chase with a squeaky toy and paddled in a kiddie pool. Brent looked over at me and said, “He shouldn’t be in here.” What could I do but trust him? This is a man who could be called the Dog Whisperer, he’s that good with animals.
So Buddy came home that afternoon. (Yeah, I couldn’t deal with the “Spud” so we changed it–an overused dog name, I know, but Bud sounded enough like Spud to make the transition seamless.) He adored Trixie and would have curled up next to her every night if she had let him. (She didn’t.) They were best buddies and he was by her side as she aged and grew fragile. He was by her side as she passed over the Rainbow Bridge.
Trixie needed Buddy and Buddy needed us. And we needed Bud. He’s taught me that a great love can take root the second time around. He’s taught me that looks don’t speak to what lives in the heart. (And truth be told, that makeovers are real–he’s a new and improved Buddy now.) Buddy has shown me that the best things in life are the small ones, that a ride to the grocery store, a green bean, a biscuit before bed are exquisite treasures.
He’s taught me that everyone needs a Buddy.