REMEMBERING BUDDY

Memories of Buddy creep into my head from time to time.  It's a problematic memory because of the circumstances surrounding the end of his life.  I suppose the grief and guilt I've experienced from this is enough penance, but I'm not sure even that's enough or if I'll ever fully recover.

Richard was my boyfriend for a few years while I lived in South Florida.  We lived 80 miles apart but would see each other most weekends.  That is until 5 years of this kind of schedule passed, and I wanted him to curtail his sailing lessons to 2 weekends out of the month.  He was a great boyfriend in many respects, but the distance and infrequent time together began to bother me.

We had been a couple for about a year when we decided to adopt a dog from a rescue organization.  He was described as being half chihuahua and half lab in an ad on Craigslist.  The description alone was intriguing. I discovered he had been in foster care for a month after a woman saved him from dying on a busy street in Miami.  He had been purposely hit by a car.  His pelvis was broken in several places, and he could not bear weight on his back leg. Since I managed an inpatient rehabilitation facility and several outpatient therapy clinics, I figured he'd be a perfect fit for us.  Richard was reluctant to have a dog because he valued his freedom and didn't want the responsibility.  I convinced him that we would share that responsibility.  Besides, when he went to the foster care house to see him for the first time, it didn't take long after looking into the soulful eyes of this beautiful animal that he was meant for us.  The deal was sealed when the dog rested his chin on Richard's arm the entire trip back to his house.

Buddy had a unique personality.  He was only about a year old, but we could tell that the early months of his life were spent with someone who probably abused him.  He bonded with us quickly, but he was fearful of other people and dogs.  Buddy badly wanted affection from people.  He'd remain calm when they petted him, but the minute they stepped away, he would lunge at them and try to bite them.  He succeeded several times, including the first time he met my daughter and once when I tried to coax him out from under the bed. 

I kept thinking that my love for him would cure his aggressive behavior, but that never happened.  We would take him everywhere, but we had to watch him constantly. Those saucer-like soulful eyes would reel you in every time. When we were alone with him, he was the most affectionate dog you could imagine.

After 5 years, Richard and I ended our relationship, and I took custody of Buddy.  A few months later, I began seeing Jack, and we eventually lived together.  Jack never entirely accepted Buddy, but he seemingly tolerated him.

I knew it was a matter of time before I would have to let him go and that each day was borrowed time, especially after he cornered a group of children who had come to my door for Halloween treats.  He didn't bite any of them because I grabbed him just before he could lock his jaws on some child's arm.

Jack's daughter and her four sons, below age 10, would visit all day on a Saturday or Sunday.  His daughter never accepted me because she was afraid I would inherit her Dad's money and her children wouldn't have their educations paid for.  At least, that's what Jack told me, she said.  So, her weekly visits were difficult for us.  He didn't even like her being at the house, mainly when she'd be there most of the day and a good portion of the night.  She did everything she could to make my life a living Hell.  He never dared to ask her to leave after a few hours or defend me when she ranted about me, which meant it was very uncomfortable for all of us.

One day, while I was at work, his daughter and four sons visited Jack.  I instructed Jack to put Buddy in the upstairs bedroom and not allow anyone to open the door.  Unfortunately, the first thing his daughter did was open the bedroom door.  When I returned home from work, Jack told me that Buddy had bitten his daughter and all four kids.

I knew the jig was up, and something had to be done.  Of course, Jack's daughter had convinced him that if Buddy bit someone on his property, he would be sued for all his money.  Again, she and her children would miss out on their inheritance.

By my count, he had managed to bite 8 people in his 5 years of life.  I contacted various rescue organizations and a friend who liked Buddy and asked each of them to take him.  They either didn't return my call or flat-out refused.  I talked to Richard, who didn't want to take full-time responsibility for him.  I didn't have any more options, so I knew he would have to be euthanized.  I called Richard again and asked him to take Buddy to the veterinarian that knew Buddy and have him put to sleep...permanently.  

Richard will always have a place in my heart for what he did for our dog.  He came to our house the night before Buddy was to go to the veterinarian for his last visit.  He let Buddy sleep next to him all through the night.  He lovingly held Buddy and talked to him as the effects of the shot took hold and ultimately took Buddy's life.

Several months later, Jack's grandsons told me that they missed Buddy. I told them I couldn't have him around because he had bitten them.  They responded, "What?  He never bit us!  We loved him!"

Jack and I parted ways a few months after his grandchildren's revelation.  It wasn't just this episode, but his drinking and his grown children, that became too much for me to handle.  I don't know if he colluded with his daughter or not to create a situation where Buddy's life ended, but I do know for sure that his daughter definitely lied about it.  Time has healed a lot of the pure disgust I feel about her, but I know that somehow or in some way, she will experience payback for what she did.  And whether or not Jack suffered because of his role, I'll never know.  He died a few months ago.

Or maybe she did all of us, including Buddy, a favor.  Buddy was like a ticking time bomb, according to his veterinarian.  It was just a matter of time before he hurt someone.  Many of my friends and family felt the same way about Buddy.  They were afraid for themselves, me, and others who might be attacked by him.

I just know that Buddy wanted to live.  He wanted to be loved and to love.  He did get to live and experience love for a while, but his life ended too early.

I loved him anyway.  

Rest in peace, my Buddy.