Buddy, you performed you one task very...VERY well. Your former (and your current) Master is very pleased.
Good boy, Buddy!
Good boy.
Posted on 05/21/2007 7:23:48 PM PDT by uglybiker
I apoligize in advance for being so long winded, but I felt the need to share.
5:00am. I'm up and stumbling around the house like I usually do at this time of morning getting ready for work. Keys?...check. Smokes?...check. Lighter?...check. Monster mug o' coffee?...check.
Okay. I've got all the important stuff covered. I walk to the back door with a quick stop at the pantry to pull out a dog cookie. I walk out the door and something is missing. Normally, at the bottom of the steps, is a largish, wooly, mixed-breed dog. His name is Buddy. During the warmer part of the year (which we have alot of here in Arizona), he likes to sleep out in the yard where the ground is cooler. Normally he can hear me bumbling around the house in the morning, so he comes to the back steps to wait for me to come out. He always knew that 'Daddy' would give him some well-deserved attention and a cookie before he left. That was the daily ritual and I did my best to keep my part of the bargain.
He'd been getting along in years and, every once in awhile, I guess he'd sleep so soundly that he wouldn't hear me, and I'd find him still asleep in the yard right at the back corner of the house. He was there this morning, but when I called him, he didn't move. His body was still warm, his limbs were still limber, but my friend was gone.
And a hole opened in my heart.
No more will I see that wagging tail, those perked ears and that goofy dog grin as he lays with his paws crossed --always right over left-- just behind the back gate. Where he would stay almost motionless until the gate is actually open and "OHBYOHBOYOHBOY! DADDY'S HOME!!"
No more when I open the back door will he squirt in and play Kentucky Derby through the house with the cat. First one leading, then the other.
No more in the spring when the mulberrys flower and all the fuzzy bits fall to the ground and seemingly every #%&$%$# on gets stuck in his fur when he tries to come in the house...
No more will he lay his head on my knee and look up at me with those watery eyes and that disarming 'goofy dog grin' that he had perfected so well. That look said he knew who his master was. And that was all that mattered.....and would Master please give him a cookie? ;-)
Flashback to ten years ago.
November '97. I had recently moved to Arizona and was renting a room from my folks while I was getting myself established. I had just received a sizeable promotion at work and had saved up enough to put a down payment on a house. I was finally starting to move up in the world.
I got to work to pull a weekend shift when the man at the front gate ask me:"You know anybody who wants a dog? He's been wandering around here for two days. I felt sorry for him, so I gave him a frozen waffle I was going to have for breakfast. He likes me now. I call him 'Buddy'." My father worked at the same place at the time and, before I knew it, my parents had driven down, coaxed him into their car and brought him home. (My family has a failing when it comes to stray critters. We all have a couple.)It took the better part of a day to get him to come up to me. But when he figured out I was okay, he wasn't going anywhere. We debated on taking him to the local animal shelter, but I figured that since he was so skiddish, nobody would take him. So, when the paperwork on my house cleared a couple of weeks later, he came home with me.
He still had alot of puppy in him, so there were some problems at first. My utility trailer got stripped of all its wires, the power lead to my AC was pulled off, about two hundred holes showed up in my 'new' backyard, and I got notices stuck on my front door from animal control complaining about a barking dog. But he eventually settled down and even made up with the neighbors. One even told me that she didn't mind him barking so much because "he's not only watching your yard, he's watching mine, too!" Before long, he had truly lived up to his name. What had been some uncaring person's cast off, quickly became my closest and truest friend.
Buddy never was a big fan of the ugly bike. He didn't mind the noise, he just knew that whenever he saw me loading stuff on it, I was going somewhere and wasn't taking him.
Time rolled on. I got another promotion at work, my Father retired and my parents moved to eastern Texas. My folks always seeming to need something either hauled to them or hauled back, a couple times a year I would load up the truck and head east. Me at the wheel and Buddy behind the drivers seat with his head on the console. We took this trip enough times that we had our own scheduled stops. First: the New Mexico Welcome center on I-40. Second: The Love's truckstop west of Amarillo. Third: just outside of Witchita Falls and last: a little picnic area on Highway 82 not far from Paris, Tx.
As he got older, he developed hip displasia and got to where he couldn't climb in the truck. So I whipped up a small foldable ramp so he could walk in. He was always ready to go somewhere.
Flash back to the present.
By now, I was running late for work, so I moved Buddy from the yard and put him in the breezeway next to his dog box. My supervisor was understanding. All guys know what if feels like when you lose your dog. Also my work load was light, so I was able to leave early to take care of the business of what to do with this, that which is all that is left of my best friend.
The soil in this part of Arizona is composed mostly of rock, clay and calichi. I would almost have to rent a jackhammer to dig a proper grave. But my local veterenarian offers a cremation servce. It's not cheap, but I'm not complaining. In a couple of weeks, I will receive a small box of ashes that will be placed where I have a spot prepared under my bedroom window next to a cat who was also a very true friend.
When I got to the vet office, they had me pull around back where two assistants laid out a sling, gently rolled him into it and together (he weighed almost 100 pounds) we carried him inside to the last place I would see him.
I turned around to go and remembered somethng. I knelt down and removed the collar that I had put on him a long, long time ago. He didn't need it anymore.
I was no longer his Master.
There was a thread here the other day that posed the question about whether our pets go to heaven. I didn't read the whole thing, but I seem to remember a poster saying that there is a reason animals are rarely mentioned in Scripture. The Bible was written for mankind. Animals don't need a guide on how to live their lives.It is very scant on details about what happens to animals when they pass on. So anything I can add would be strictly my opinion. You can take it for what it's worth.
And, in my opinion, I believe that our pets are a physical manifestation of our Creator's love for us.
They are sent to us to perform one task, and one task only. And that is to serve their masters.
In doing so, they are also a reminder to their masters that they too have one task. And that is to serve Our Lord and Master.
The sheer exuberence at which they go about their one task is a reminder of how we should go about ours.
And as their lives are but a few short years, they remind us that, as their physical bodies must return to the earth whence they came, so too shall be our fate. And we should make the best of the short time we have been blessed with.
I cannot say for sure that our pets go to Heaven. I will only say that if the hereafter is supposed to be paradise, that paradise would be a bleak place indeed if my best friend is not there to share it with me.
As I type this, his collar is sitting on my desck by my keyboard. I look around the room and I see over in one corner, a very well-chewed rope toy. In another corner is the knot off a rawhide bone next to an old blue blanket he would lie on when he would come inside. I'm not sure what to do with them yet. Do I throw them out or save them for the next dog? I say next for it seems to be my lot that when one of my animals passes, a short time later another one shows up needing a home.
But I will always have a very special place for a largish, wooly dog with a 'goofy dog grin'.
Hope our puppies are playing together.
That would be nice.
Take care brother.
I am so sorry for your loss, uglybiker. Add me to the chorus of “I know how you feel”. We had to put our beloved cocker spaniel Abby down a couple of years ago. She was 14, and we got her when she was 7 weeks old. We had her cremated and keep her ashes here in the house because we couldn’t bear the thought of putting her outside in the ground. After all, she’d spent her whole life right here in this house with us.
We have an almost 4 year old miniature dachshund named Dixie now. A friend of ours breeds them and insisted that we take one of his puppies back in 2003 as Abby had started to decline. He said it would lessen the pain of losing Abby, and he was so right.
My parents also took one of the doxie puppies out of that litter and named her Sophie. My daddy passed away in 2004, and Mama passed away on March 9 of this year. Sophie now lives with us and her sister Dixie, and we all have a wonderful life together.
I can’t imagine life without a dog in it. They give so much joy and ask for so little in return.
What a nice tribute.
We also lost Leo, three years ago. We haven’t gotten another cat as we have been too busy with other things to focus on that.
Think about this.
I am a pre-trib pre-millenialist Christian. That is, I believe GOd will take His people out of the world before he allows the Tribulation of seven years to take place. After that occurs, He will return to earth with us and we will establish His 1000 year kingdom on earth.
Having said that, I have had thoughts and even dreams of my dogs living through that horrible time, but since they are animals, and the tribulation is God’s wrath against man, they will survive. I have had dreams of my return where Stink Pot, GG, and Peewee see me coming in the clouds and crawl out from some long abandoned shed, tails wagging, and licking my face as if to say, “We missed you! We are so glad you are back.”
‘This is by no means the first time I’ve gone through this, and certainly will not be the last. Although this is the first time I have been moved to write about it. It never seems to get any easier.’
Same here.
Tears...my eyes needed a good cleaning this morning anyway.
You are a beautiful and expressive writer. I’m so sorry for your loss, but I knoow you will be ready to share your heart with another desrving furry companion.
She came to us in need of shelter, care, love Which we were happy to supply in abundance; A couple who's special lot in life was To care for those creatures of God who could not care for themselves; And God, with a wisdom man can glimpse only in the most unusual, Most startling, and most unexpected moments; Knew she was to be ours
Sasha A big dog; Way too big; Norwegian Elk Hound; Now so big, clearly a Norwegian Chow Hound; Raised and maintained on a diet of red meat and sugar By someone who loved too well and cared too little; Come to us after her master's untimely death; Shy, fearful, but so friendly and wanting friends; Painful, but brave; Her heart the biggest part of her
Slowly finding her places in her new home; A place to eat; a carpet to lie down upon; A place to be safe, to love again in safety; Near the recliner which most often held A loving human with kind hands; A place in the hierarchy of eight cats and another dog Who, despite his small stature, let her know who was Top Dog; And she, while never contradicting him, let us know With a doggie wink, a wig-wigging tail, and open-mouthed smile That she was really In Command
And so the few slow years sped by Heavy years, with a force of more than just The Earth's gravitational pull; Force equals mass times acceleration, The scientists tell us; But what can science tell us of the force Of destiny? The mass of care? The acceleration of time? A force also of congenital problems Common to those of her breed; And it became ever more difficult to walk To climb the stairs To do those small things every creature takes for granted Until taken from them; Until the joy of taking walks with her mistress Became only memories; Until it hurt just to move And medications became ever less effective In easing the pain But almost never a complaint from Sasha And , if you closed your eyes and listened Closely, we could hear her:
"You gave me a home and I love you with all my heart. After all your kindness it would be unseemly for me to now complain of a few aches and pains. Worse, it would be undignified."
And as we all know, a dog's dignity is special.
Yet, something had to be done, And something was; Calls were made; Consultations were held; Fears expressed; Reassurances given; A common operation; Little chance of any problems; And a plan of action put in motion; A Mission undertaken; And well-planned missions, we are taught from childhood, Must end in success One's heart must be obeyed
Then, things going terribly wrong The operation botched, complications, Intensive care; Terrible scars; Tubes and lines and Devices of frightening mechanicability; Her breath coming in hitches; A very sick Sasha peering at us through the Plexiglas oxygen cage; Oh, merciful God! How could this happen To our girl?! To your girl?! One last doggie smile between Labored breaths, I love you Thank you for your kindness Goodbye Then turning away Please don't watch me die And we did as she asked For in those things which matter most The heart knows best what to ask And how to answer
Some years ago in another hospital Waiting out another crisis A nurse said that she had seen many die; And that when someone died they never, ever Voiced regret over not having spent more time at the office, Or on the golf course, Or shopping, Or doing any of the things we find so important in health; No, she said The only regret the dying ever expressed to her Was in not spending more time With those to whom Their heart went out
And so we brought you home, Sashi-girl, In an urn; To be with us If only in death; If even in death; Your heart still beats strong in the house; A heart of courage; Of selflessness; Of gratitude; Of love; And now in the quiet evening As I sit just before bed, I catch a glimpse of something At just the edge of vision; A doggy smile; A curled tail wig-wigging in happiness; A wave of love -- "I'm still here, Master;" And I go to bed Holding her spirit close, Feeling her valiant heart beat strong, And it keeps me warm all through the night.
For Sasha, January, 2001
ltn72@charter.net
SNICKERS aka wee, wee
The breeder TOLD that couple NOT to take that dog, that he wasn't the right dog for them. Field trial dogs are bred to compete in the hardest work that Labs do - they have incredible intelligence, energy, and drive to DO something. They need steady work and very strict (but fair) discipline, and some experience on the part of the owner. Not a first dog.
I have one Lab that's a half and half conformation/field trial cross. Even she, only a halfbred, was a semi-Marley for the first 2 years of her life. Only when she was 6 years old and I had plenty of experience did I venture to purchase a high-powered Lab like Marley. My new girl (9 months old) still has just a little (around 1/8) conformation just to lessen the excitement slightly -- but she is a buzzsaw on four wheels and into everything. If she didn't get her four miles a day she would be absolutely ungovernable, and she has to have her serious bird work on the weekends.
It makes me cringe to think how much that dog (and the humans) suffered, all unnecessarily, because they wouldn't take the breeder's advice. A field-bred dog is not for everybody, and it certainly wasn't for the Grogans.
Lots of friends have Aussies (we do agility). They are wonderful dogs and so intelligent.
Old Blue died and I dug his grave
I dug his grave with a silver spade
I let him down with a golden chain
And every link I called his name
Go on Blue you good dog you
Go on Blue you good dog you
Blue laid down and died like a man
Blue laid down and died like a man
Now he’s treein’ ‘possums in the promised land
Thank you for sharing this beautiful tribute. I’m sorry for your loss.
I'm actually expecting the same with my border collie, named Mattie. She's 12-13 years old now......and not the same dog she was.
I don't want it to happen....but I know it's going to...sooner or later.
Sigh...............
Dear uglybiker-beautiful heart,
Loved your writing of your Buddy, but am in tears over his loss.
My heart goes out to you. I am sorry for your loss.
This poem by Kipling says it all:
The Power of the Dog
by Rudyard Kipling
There is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day;
And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more!
Brothers and Sisters, I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.
Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie—
Perfect passion and worship fed
By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
Nevertheless, it is hardly fair
To risk your heart for a dog to tear.
When the fourteen years which Nature permits
Are closing in asthma, or tumor, or fits,
And the vet’s unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers or loaded guns,
Then you will find – it’s your own affair –
But . . . you’ve given your heart to a dog to tear.
When the body that lived at your single will,
With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still);
When the spirit that answered your every mood
Is gone – wherever it goes – for good,
You will discover how much you care,
And will give your heart to a dog to tear.
We’ve sorrow enough in the natural way
When it comes to burying Christian clay.
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent.
Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we’ve kept ‘em, the more do we grieve:
For, when debts are payable, right or wrong,
A short-time loan is as bad as a long –
So why in-Heaven (before we are there)
Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?
If you click on my name you will see my “buddy”, his name was Durango, we lost him due to the bad food in March.
I share your pain.
(((((((((hugz))))))))
I’m so sorry uglybiker.
God bless you and comfort you.
There seems to be a number of us going through this at the same time.
I also have a cat who is going on 17. She's still lively and happy, but I'm going to have to prepare myself for the day when her time comes, too. But as all things must come to an end, others are just beginning. I have another cat who is pregnant. I'm about to have a house full.
Amazing how their loss can hurt.
God bless you and have fun dealing with those young-uns.
Just don’t let them grow up to be “yutes!”
I just saw this.
I am so very sorry to hear about Buddy.
I see tho that Buddy was very lucky to have you and vice-a-versa.
Hugs to you sweetheart.
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