Back when I was in high school I went through a time when I desperately and sincerely wanted a “best friend.” Looking back now, I realize I had a lot of good friends, but for some reason I wanted a friend who I could refer to as “buddy.” That title held some special meaning for me to the point that I tried too hard and as a result, my efforts actually had the opposite effect; it probably made it difficult to be around me. I was too needy, yet I simply wanted the security of knowing I had someone I could depend on and to whom I was important.
Of course, I know now that one needn’t force anything. Special relationships simply develop over time and, for that matter, the term “buddy” is a rather casual one, like pal, bro, dude… I don’t remember why it was so important.
Skip to the relative present – a couple of years ago – I had somewhat given up the act of actively looking for another dog of my own. My faithful companion, Sunny, had passed away after nearly 16 years with me. That dog, like the one I had before her, Lucky, was a special dog. Both were the smartest and quirkiest dogs; talented and both acquired in the most fortuitous and unplanned manner.
With Lucky, I had gone to the animal shelter to get a dog and told the clerk which one I wanted - the black one. She asked me if I was sure and I replied “yes” but must have had showed the slightest bit of hesitation, because she said, "I don't think you are sure. Come back tomorrow.”
When I went back the next day, I saw this cute little brown dog and realized that the clerk was right. This little brown dog was the one. I took her home and called her "Lucky "because that's how I felt. She was my constant companion and learned the strangest tricks from me: I could dress her up for photos, and one day I had climbed a ladder to get on my rooftop, and when I turned around, she had followed me up the ladder and gotten on the roof with me.
My next dog came to me through a friend who was working at the animal shelter and told me that there, amongst the little kittens they were taking care of, was a little puppy. There, playing with the kittens was this little brown dog the shelter had named” Autumn" and was the featured dog on the shelter’s quarterly magazine. She too, was special and unique. I looked up synonyms for the word "lucky "and the word "sunny" came up. That was to be her name. We had many adventures together, and I was heartbroken when she began to have seizures. With medication, she hung in there for some time, but when she passed, I knew I had to wait. There would never be another Sunny.
Oh, I did visit the animal shelters from time to time, hoping some dog would stand out among the rest, but most of the available dogs were older, smaller, or simply not the right ones. Rick and I had a german Shepard named Gracie Mae, but that was more of his dog, and I wanted one that was mine. One time, I even went through the paperwork process to bring home this pit bull mix that seemed a likely candidate, but after taking him for a walk at the shelter and thinking it over, I realized that no, that was not the one. I knew I had to wait.
Then, one day while working I got a text from Rick - a photo of this black and white pup. “He’s being fostered and is available,” he texted.
“OMG,” I texted back.
We met him at the park and the woman who brought him explained to us that she and her husband heard of several dogs who were to be put down at the shelter in Los Banos due to lack of space. The wanted to save at least one of them and even though they lived in a small apartment and weren’t allowed to have pets, they got temporary permission from the landlord and went through the entire adoption process; paying all the fees and taking him to the vet, which is where Rick saw him.
We asked if we could take him home to meet Gracie - to make sure they were compatible, which they were. In fact, they played so much that they were all muddy and so we suggested that we clean him up before returning him, but he never left. We knew. I knew…
At the time, we had been watching the British television show, Mrs. Brown’s Boys, and after trying all the obvious black and white name ideas, I named him after the mischievous but likable character on the show: Buster.
And we’ve been inseparable since. If he wants my attention while I am working, I give it to him. We run around the yard together, we takes naps together, and I take him with me everywhere and, if for some reason I can’t, Rick tells me he just sits in a corner and waits for me to return.
“Let’s go, buddy,” I said once. And it hit me.
My buddy!!! That friend who I can depend on and who thinks the world of me.
That unfulfilled wish I had over 50 years ago … is sitting on my lap right now!