On June 25, 2021, we lost our first baby. It has been almost two months without him now, and while the pain isn’t gone, it is no longer consuming. I put off doing this post because I guess it made it more real that he is gone, more final. I was saddened to find most pictures from the first half of his life are gone, lost in the abyss of old phones and desktop computers. Photos including teenage “smedium” Buddy, ones of him and Boss together, him sprawled out on red bed down in the basement of our old house on Saybrook, one Christmas wearing a sweater too snug for his barrel body. However, when going through the photos I do still have (many of which are not actually of him, but rather him photobombing) it is more than enough to remind me of him and remember the old boy who stood beside us for 12 years.
I remember clearly the summer we adopted Buddy. It was our first year dating and getting a puppy together seemed like the logical next step in our relationship😂 We searched on Petfinder and when I saw Buddy’s sweet little black-eyed panda face, I immediately fell in love. After a nerve-racking week of back and forth with the adoption people, we finally learned that he would be ours and made the 2.5 hour drive to get him. He was named Target by his foster mom, and while we considered a few names (Oscar, Spud, Spot) we landed on Buddy to keep with the “B” tradition of my other family dogs and also after my grandpa whose nickname was Bud (who we lost shortly after getting Buddy).
Like his foster mom told us, Buddy was a big baby and that rang true throughout his life. While I think he did enjoy his time with Boss (tolerating the intense face licks and going for swims together in grandma and grandpa’s old pool), deep down he was happiest being an only child. A bit later when babies were added to the mix, he rebelled both times by eating diapers and destroying the house, but he eventually came around and loved his little sister and brother. Buddy had his quirks and was one of a kind. He had many nicknames including “manimal” due to his human-like eyes, and Wilbur Buddington the III, which I joked was his formal name. He had a “butt explosion” phase that he thankfully outgrew. He was always on the lazier side and on walks would often pretend to be interested in sniffing a plant or squeeze out a drop of pee for the tenth time to get out of walking for a bit. He was never a big fan of children, although he eventually tolerated them better after being used to Scarlett and August. He had stubby legs and small paws that seemed to barely support his barrel body—he would often twist his ankle when trying to keep up with Boss. Although he loved food, not once did he ever take food from my plate—the kids’ food was fair game, however, if he could reach it. Before kids he was often allowed to come snuggle in our bed in the morning and tagged along on lots of adventures (including a winery, which is when we discovered that he doesn’t really like strangers and barked at everyone the whole time). He loved John and always knew when he was coming over, awaiting his arrival hours before he was supposed to be there (and then would be greeted with John’s nicknames for him such as “small-pawed pup” and “piebald pup”). He loved flea biting ankles and turning 360s when playing. At the dog park he never backed away from other dogs, no matter how big—in fact other dogs seemed to be wary of him.
We celebrated his 12th birthday by taking him to Petco and letting him pick a toy and a birthday treat. I’m so glad we were able to celebrate one more birthday with our boy.
Thank you for always being there during those times that no one else was. I love you, Bud, you good boy.
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