Goodbye Buddy

Our family recently said goodbye to our furry little friend, Buddy.

Buddy was born a pup in South Florida. At some point along the way, his life took a hard turn. He was rescued by a Shih Tzu rescue organization nearly dead — but he was reclaimed, rehabilitated, and eventually rehomed to us in Ocala.

I still remember the day he came to our house for a meet-and-greet. He wasn’t very energetic at the time, but we took him anyway. Within minutes, he became a central part of our family.

Our kids grew up with Buddy through their awkward elementary, middle school, and high school years. Many nights he slept in their beds. One of his favorite positions was rolling over onto his back with his feet sticking straight up in the air while he snored.

One of our favorite memories was something we called “Buddy TV.”
We would place him next to a window, or he would jump up to find his own perch, and he would stare outside. As cars went by, he would growl at them. If people walked by, he would growl at them too. He could literally do this all day long.

If a big dog walked by, he didn’t care — in his mind, he was the bigger dog.

One of the most dangerous things he ever did was chase after cars, running down the road after them like he owned the street.

He wasn’t much of a walker. He could go for a little while, but eventually those little legs would give out and he would lay down. But he loved car rides, sticking his nose out the window and feeling the wind.

Buddy got nervous very easily, especially during thunderstorms. When thunder rolled in, he could not be comforted. Thunder jackets didn’t work. Medication didn’t work. If a thunderstorm hit at 3:00 a.m., sleep was over for everyone.

At one point I tried to make Buddy an office dog so he could comfort my counseling clients. Unfortunately, he barked at everybody, so that experiment didn’t last very long.

He wasn’t much of a swimmer, but we still took him to the beach and on trips with us.
He also wasn’t much of a begging dog.

But the part of his personality I loved the most was this: he always wanted to be near you.

Wherever I sat, he wanted to be on my lap or right next to me.

Buddy sat beside me through countless hockey games and football games. He would snuggle next to me on the couch, roll onto his back, and I would rest my hand on his neck or rub his belly as long as the game went on.

One of the funniest things about Buddy was that he could sense when I was nervous watching a game. When my anxiety went up, he would start growling at me as if to say, “Calm down.”

He barked at every guest who came into our home — but eventually he would warm up to them.

One of the things I looked forward to most every day was walking in the front door. Buddy would give me a two-minute greeting as excited as you could imagine.

As the years went by, things began to change.
Buddy became more anxious. His health slowly declined. We started noticing digestive problems. Vet visits became more frequent. His diet had to change.

Eventually, he couldn’t keep down food or water.

And we knew his final days were here.

One of the most difficult decisions I have ever had to make in my life was making the appointment to put him down. It affected each one of us deeply. Buddy wasn’t finishing life naturally anymore — he was suffering, uncomfortable, and unable to keep down food or water.

Goodbye feels different than I expected.

Now when I pull into the driveway, something is missing.

As I write this, tears well up in my eyes remembering the love, the life, the memories, and the photos.

And in my heart I can almost hear God say:

“Well done, Buddy.
You did your job faithfully.
Now come on home.”