Buddy: Eulogy For A Good Dog

JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: On Thursday, I buried a dog. 

At the very beginning of 2021, I drove my daughter Virginia (known here as Youngest) to a Target parking lot near Albany, NY to pick up a Shih Tzu she had adopted from a senior dog rescue organization. This Shih Tzu was... something. He looked like an angry gremlin after being fed after midnight, scraggly and underweight. He was 13 years old, unneutered, and had a heart condition that rendered him unable to get the snip. In addition, he was mostly blind - an opaque cataract in one eye and something else not working in the other - and deaf as well. His name was Buddy, and he became Virginia's best little pal.

 

 

She started out by giving him the health care he hadn't received in his pre-rescue life. He had skin issues, so she bathed him weekly with a prescription shampoo, placating him for the indignity with lots of special tub-only treats. She got treatment for his heart, for his breathing, for the mysterious lumps that grew beneath his snowy-white hair. Buddy got the concierge medicine treatment, despite the fact his owner was a self-supporting college student.

 

 

 

 

 

 

When he first arrived in Maine, Buddy wouldn't walk outdoors. We would carry him out, plop him on some grass, and he'd wobble about a bit before hopefully doing his business. Virginia bought him a special dog carriage - not a baby stroller, a dog carriage - so he could go out and take the air like Maurice Chevalier rolling through Paris in Gigi. With time and patience (and some visits to Granny's house in the country, where there was enough space for him to wander about in the sunshine without smacking into an obstacle) he pepped up and became quite fearless, taking off down the sidewalk at a brisk walk that left some family members chasing after, unprepared.

 

 

 

 

This dog was pampered. Oh, he was pampered. He had tiny hats. He had jammies that matched his "Mom's" He had competing Christmas and Hallowe'en outfits - both Virginia and Guest Son would buy him costumes and post online to see which got the most votes. He had a special orthopedic bed and would rip up lesser dog beds in disdain. (Or maybe they just smelled cheap.) He had a whole raft of toys designed for blind dogs that he could track down by their scent - although his favorite pastime continued to be ripping pieces of cardboard into the smallest possible pieces. He had a snug car seat that enabled him to travel safely without accidentally getting out, and if anyone else traveled in Virginia's car, well, Buddy still got the front seat. 

 

 

Like many small dogs, he loved getting floofed and cuddled, and he insisted on sleeping, not just with his humans, but over them, by wriggling his way from the side of the mattress to the pillow, and then to the top of the pillow. I got to experience this for myself on Buddy's visits to granny's house, when I would wake up with a Shih Tzu hat draped over my head.

 

 

 

 

 

 

He was an ambassador for the joys of adopting a senior or disabled dog, and Virginia and Guest Son never passed up a chance to let people see how much having a special needs pet brought to their lives. Visitors to their little apartment would walk in as skeptics and leave delighted.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But, of course, there's one last Visitor who comes to even the most beloved dog. Both Virginia and Guest Son were out of the apartment, but they could tell afterwards that Buddy drank a full bowl of water and then settled himself in his squishy bed, which always faced the door so he could see the change in light as his people came and went, and feel the vibration of footsteps in the hall. When Guest Son got home, he thought Buddy was asleep at first. 

 

 They brought him here to the house in the country, where we laid him to rest beneath a century-old lilac, which intertwines with wild grape and Virginia creeper. It's a good place for a little blind dog, full of marvelous smells in season. May we all be granted such an end! - all thirsts quenched, peaceful in our beds, waiting for the footfall of the One who loves us.