My Little Buddy

    I lost my Buddy yesterday (3/01/06)

 

    Oh, I’m not talking about a human being, but she was such a good friend to me, and I like to think I was to her, as well. Neither of us ever wanted for anything.

 

     Buddy was just a puppy when she wondered up in our yard; a little lost dog. I say lost because she was an expensive dog; a Shih Tzu. And no one dumps a dog like Buddy. Oh, I should have put an ad in the paper or reported her to animal control, but at the time I was thinking, “their loss, my gain.”

 

     Such a loyal pet she was. Before my wife was diagnosed with cancer, Buddy would follow her around the house; as if somehow she realized that all was not right. When my daughter experienced marital problems, and sought refuge in our home, Buddy lay next to her, as she shed a multitude of tears, and would not leave her side. Once when my wife was home alone, and the garage door suddenly opened, My Little Buddy barked for all she was worth. (Later we found greasy footprints in the driveway). And my little friend never failed to greet Jean and I at the front door. Since my wife works shift work, she will come in about midnight. Nine times out of ten, at about 1130PM, Buddy would walk from our den into the front room, and sit by the door; waiting for her beloved master.

 

     I weep as I write these words. And I admit it. I wonder if animals have souls, and whether I’ll have the opportunity to see My Little Buddy in heaven; just inside the pearly gates. And for that matter, whether I’ll see my little Cocker Spaniel again. Her name was Princess. And awesome to consider… she died fifty years ago. Amazing to reflect on that little boy and his dog, and the grief he felt that day. That little boy was me.

 

     My Little Buddy labored valiantly, as the pace of her breathing grew shallower and faster. It was only a matter of time. I had nursed her through the night, as she lay beside me in my bed; comforting her, propping her up on a pillow, my hands stroking her silky white fur.

 

    And when the sun lit up my bedroom, I gently lifted her, and walked her into the living room; setting her down on her favorite little cushion. I was gone a minute; just long enough to make a short phone call. When I returned she lay still as death. Indeed, she had met that “dark angel.” So peaceful in death, as if she was napping; (something in recent years she had done; more than not).

 

     I sat next to My Little Buddy for what seemed long minutes; stroking her coat, choking back sobs, whispering my final words to my precious little friend.

 

     Funny, there was a ready-made casket on the floor nearby; a large shoebox. Lovingly I placed her in it, and curled her into a position that she had long assumed. Napping, but never to awake. The long sleep; a rest she richly deserved.

 

    We chose a spot for Our Little Friend in the back yard; under an old oak tree. She would have loved the spot; since she loved sunlight, and sunlight graces this place throughout the day. As I lifted the little shoebox, to place her in the ground, I felt a warmth exuding from the bottom of it. The last vestiges of her mortal life seemed to leave an afterglow, and somehow reassured me. I marked her grave with a large stone, and the inscription; “My Little Buddy.”

 

     I thought of her last night, as I got out of my car. My first reflection, “There’s no Little Buddy to greet me at the door tonight, and she never will again.” And then, amazingly, I happened to look up at the night sky, as immediately a “shooting star” flamed its fiery way into earth’s atmosphere; seemingly over her gravesite. And I reflected that My Saviour must have planned that little display of comfort before Time Eternal. And that He must have sent that little meteorite on a journey through space that would conclude at the split second I needed such comfort. His time is supernal.

     But to hearken back to the warmth that exuded from the little shoebox which contained the mortal remains of My Buddy. I will never forget it, or the warmth she displayed in life; seemingly thinking of others before herself. Oh, she may not be remembered by many, but I will never forget, and (it may surprise you), I am better for having known her.

 

     For that kind little animal left a legacy, and she left me memories that will never grow dim; (Oh, that I could see her one more time).

 

      And I think we can learn from the precious gift which I will always remember as My Little Buddy. She was a gift that kept on giving. For I think in her own way, she fulfilled her destiny, whereas there are human beings who never will.

 

      And I want my life to be like that. How I long to exude the warmth that filled up the frame of that little dog. To touch another human being, to make a profound difference, if in only one life at a time. And I’d like to be remembered as a good man; one who leaves behind an afterglow.

 

      I yearn to live out a life of warmth and excellence, so that when I lay it all down, I have no regrets. And I like to think, my excellent hope is that someone, somewhere might remark in passing, “Here was a life well-lived; a man who counted for something. A man obsessed with Legacy. And the world is better for his having come this way.”

 

      Not so very different from My Little Buddy.

 

By William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from "My Little Buddy"

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