In Memoriam

As most of you already know we lost our beloved dog, Buddy, this week.

He liked also being on top of the trampoline.  Sometimes when I came home from somewhere I'd see him sitting on top, like he could get a better view of us coming home.

Last summer he was hit by a pick up, that was probably only going 15 mph, just bumping him on his back side.  He limped every so slightly for a few days after that incident. We thought he no longer chased cars, but we realized that sometimes when other dogs were chasing, Buddy couldn't resist also chasing.  Early on in our walks together I trained Buddy to get off the road.  Then last summer, after the hit, I trained him to sit any time a car came by.  The last couple of months I trained him to sit when a car was coming while I kept walking.  Then when the car passed, I would call him to catch up with me.  Once in a while he would start towards me before I called him because he knew the car was gone, but I would remind him to wait until I called him.  He worked so hard to hear, "Good boy!"  Any time anyone said that to him, you could almost see his chest puff out knowing he had pleased us. Often Buddy sat or slumped down before I knew a car was coming.  He heard it before me and acted on his training.

So it was surprising to think he chased a car again.  This time the pick up was probably going at least 30 mph. I heard the thud of the hit and the yelp of a dog and knew it was bad.  I went out hoping it was a different dog, but no, it was our Buddy.  Quinn Heiner, who was driving, backed up and got out to see what happened. Buddy had already crawled under the suburban parked along side the road.  The hit happened just by our driveway. Cody gave me the insight that maybe Buddy was just coming out from under the suburban at the exact moment the pick up drove by.  That could be too.  No one really seemed to see what happened.  No one is to blame either.

In the beginning we used a leash

 Lots of kids gathered around.  Buddy didn't want to leave from under the car.  I told everyone to let me be alone with him and I coaxed Buddy out.  He limped to his pen. I knew the injury was worse than the last time, but I didn't think it would be fatal.

The next day, Thursday morning, I thought maybe he should get up and move a little.  I went out to his pen, called his name and he roused slowly.  He did stand and I thought we would walk to the mailbox.  This was our routine.  He always came with me and he was showing me his heart was still there to go.  We didn't even make it to Hunting's driveway.  He stopped.  I turned around and we slowly walked back to his pen.  He started to go on the outside of the flower bed.  I think he may have wanted to lay on the mat by the front step.  That's a location he'd been frequenting more, just outside the front door.  I think he liked being near to the action of the family.  But part way through the flower bed he just walked over to me and went back to his pen.  That was our last walk together.

I tried again later in the afternoon, but he didn't even want to move.  The only thing he had eaten since the accident was  a little milk with water.  After our walks I usually gave him half water, half milk.  I gave him some shortly after the accident which he slurped up eagerly.  Then Thursday morning I gave him more, seeing that he hadn't even touched his dry dog food.

Both James and Buddy with younger looks

I'm not sure why we had so much hay in the beginning

We kept him in the pen most of the time in the early days

Esther and I were in touch throughout the day about his condition.  After she got home from work, and after a bit of a tense and anxious dinner, we all decided to call our neighbor, Rick Hoskings, who is a semi-retired veterinarian and ask if he could come to see if we should take Buddy in somewhere.  He thought so and recommended an animal hospital in Thayne.  Dr. Jessica Johnson at the animal hospital was outstanding.  She carefully explained everything in ways we understood.  Her bedside manner exuded kindness with a clear love for animals.

 Dr. Jessica examined Buddy, moving his neck, feeling down his spine.  She recommended x-rays.  This entire experience caused tremendous stretching and humbling for Dad.  Growing up on the farm animals that brought money or contributed to the livelihood warranted vet bills, but dogs and cats did not.  We agreed to the minimum amount of x-rays, which showed that most likely his abdominal wall had ruptured.  Dr. Jessica suggested an operation.  Again, it put Dad and I totally out of our element to think about surgery for a dog.  After counseling with Esther, we knew that her feelings and desires were worth the cost.  She taught us, or reminded us, that we should do all we can to save Buddy and leave the rest in our Heavenly Father's hands.  We had been praying for him.  So we said to go ahead.

Dr. Johnson also presented the possibility that when she opened him up the damage could be too great to do anything. If that was the case, then it would be more merciful to euthanize him on the table.  So we needed to say our good-byes in case.  Dad also gave him a blessing and Esther and I both cried.  Dr. Jessica took Esther's number and said she would call after surgery and that it would probably be pretty late.  We left the hospital at 8 and Esther got the call at 9.  When Buddy was opened up, his abdominal wall was shredded, too damaged to suture.  She called asking if she should just euthanize Buddy on the table.  Which of course was the most merciful thing to do.  More discussion.  Esther was the one on the phone.  More tears.  Esther said to go ahead and let him go.

This was our most frequent walk, up the hill.

He liked all the new smells.  

We would never have gotten Buddy if not for Esther.  James joined her in the desire for one of Amori's puppies, but it was really Esther's persistent persuasion that made it happen.  She taught Buddy to sit.  She taught him to listen.  Her example gave me courage to be able to teach and train too. 

Esther decided to go get Buddy's body right then.  Dr. Jessica said she would have him ready.  Esther wanted to go alone.  Dad, James and I drove up to our land to find a spot for burial.  It was pretty dark at this point.  We used headlights and flashlights.  Rain lightly sprinkled.  When we drove back to get Esther, she and Amori were both there.  Buddy was in Esther's car in the back seat wrapped in a sheet from the hospital.  Esther and Amori moved him to the back of the suburban.  We pulled the sheet back to see his face.  I particularly wanted James to see so the reality of it would sink in more.

He enjoyed all the seasons.  Hunkering down on the most wintry days and kicking up his heels in the spring and summer.

At the burial spot Amori and Esther again carried Buddy and laid him in the grave.  We said a few words about what a good buddy he was.  Dad said a prayer and used the priesthood to bless the ground as a sacred spot.  James said, "Love you Buddy", which was also what he said when we dropped James off at his softball game before taking Buddy to the hospital.  James specifically wanted Buddy to know we loved him.  He did know it.  I'm sure.  He had a happy life and felt loved and wanted.

This is the first pet in whom I've felt so invested and loved so much.  Me, a grandma, at my age, becoming so attached!  In my childhood and youth we had a dog, Teddy, for about 7 or 8 years.  He was also killed by a car.  I cried.  But I really didn't spend consistent time with him.  Not like with Buddy.   I remember Scamp, Bear Cub and Rooty, from Montana, and felt the loss of each of them in a tender, but slight way. 

Buddy and I walked almost every day.  I'm sure we did over 500 miles together.  The winter of 2017, our walks saved me.  I knew he needed and really liked to go.  That was my motivation and it kept me from a dark depression to be out in the fresh air, even if layered up, with Buddy faithfully at my side.  Then this last winter, we were very consistent too.  Sometimes in the summers he would be following James on the motorbike, or up fixing fence or something, and I would walk without him.  But mostly he accompanied me on all my walks.  Saturday when I walked without him I felt my heart breaking.  I told Esther, "this is my first walk without Buddy.  Then my next walk will be my second walk without him, and the next the third walk, then the fourth walk, all without Buddy."  Esther said that Buddy would be proud of me for still walking and to just take it a day at a time.  Good advice.

https://www.lds.org/new-era/2012/03/to-the-point/do-animals-have-spirits-what-happens-to-them-after-they-die?lang=eng

Thanks for all your compassion and listening.