The best damn dog you could ask for. [I Have Lost a Pet]
His name was Buddy. "George Elvis Nuzzlebuddy" to be precise.
His mother was a wild dingo type dog that was found roaming the highway near Kayenta, Arizona. Well not roaming exactly. My buddies observed her "playing chicken with semis to get a bite of road-kill.” It was sleeting at the time. They opened the door of their van, and she jumped in. They took it as a sign and kept her, it being many miles from civilization or a possible owner. This dog, for all intensive purposes, appeared to be roaming wild.
My friend told me that story and when she went into heat, said, “John, your single, you need a dog to keep you company.” I said sure. But apparently during her first heat she fought off all who courted her. She was still quite the wild dog.
It wasn't until months later she let an old farm dog named Henry, a Golden Retriever cross, mate with her to produce a litter of nine pups. Buddy was number nine.
I was choosing between him and one of his sisters. He had short hair like his Mom so I chose him. He was the runt of the litter too. It was adorable the way when I was looking at the litter, “Kayenta” dragged him in front of me, licked him clean and practically nudged him in my direction.
Long story short, Buddy and I spent the next 15 ½ years together. He was with me through thick and thin, and I miss him dearly still.
He visits me in my dreams. Running around and playing, getting into mischief the way he used to.
These dreams are dear to me.
His mother was a wild dingo type dog that was found roaming the highway near Kayenta, Arizona. Well not roaming exactly. My buddies observed her "playing chicken with semis to get a bite of road-kill.” It was sleeting at the time. They opened the door of their van, and she jumped in. They took it as a sign and kept her, it being many miles from civilization or a possible owner. This dog, for all intensive purposes, appeared to be roaming wild.
My friend told me that story and when she went into heat, said, “John, your single, you need a dog to keep you company.” I said sure. But apparently during her first heat she fought off all who courted her. She was still quite the wild dog.
It wasn't until months later she let an old farm dog named Henry, a Golden Retriever cross, mate with her to produce a litter of nine pups. Buddy was number nine.
I was choosing between him and one of his sisters. He had short hair like his Mom so I chose him. He was the runt of the litter too. It was adorable the way when I was looking at the litter, “Kayenta” dragged him in front of me, licked him clean and practically nudged him in my direction.
Long story short, Buddy and I spent the next 15 ½ years together. He was with me through thick and thin, and I miss him dearly still.
He visits me in my dreams. Running around and playing, getting into mischief the way he used to.
These dreams are dear to me.
56-60, M
