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My First Day Without Buddy
Buddy, having a good day.
It was strange last night, going to bed without first taking Buddy outside to go to the bathroom. It had been a nightly ritual for over a decade and I missed not stepping out onto the deck and looking at the night sky while waiting for Buddy to take care of business. Now I have no reason to do that anymore.
Shortly after going to bed last night, I thought I heard Buddy panting on the floor next to our bed, where he used to sleep. It was realistic enough to make me open my eyes, turn my head, and look. There was nothing there – no dog, no bed, no blanket. Just empty carpeting.
I woke up early this morning before the alarm went off. I couldn’t sleep anymore so I got up, got dressed, and ate breakfast. Like last night, I didn’t go outside first thing in the morning to take Buddy out. He used to get up with me and I’d take him out before or after breakfast, depending upon whether he was ready to get up or not. No need to do that anymore.
I went into my home office at 7:30 to start work. After about 20 minutes I was ready for a second cup of coffee prior to an 8:00 meeting so I walked back into the kitchen. Glancing up at the kitchen clock showing 7:53 I immediately thought, “I should feed Buddy.” He always ate breakfast at 8. Not any more. I refilled my mug and went back into my office.
Later that morning I got up to go to the bathroom. As I walked out the doorway into the hall I glanced down to make sure that I didn’t step on Buddy as I turned the corner – he used to sleep in the hall outside my office door. Except today, he wasn’t there.
Late morning, after my wife was up and about, I walked out of my office and down the hall to the living room. As I entered the living room I instinctively glanced down and to the left, expecting to see Buddy curled up and napping on the floor. Not this morning. Later, after lunch, I walked into the living room again and did the exact same thing. He was always there, in that spot on the living room floor, before today. Not any more.
Napping on the living room floor.
By the time I got off work at 4 and went back out into the living room, I knew I wouldn’t see Buddy there. As I type this at 7:30 p.m., I think it’s finally sinking in that he’s actually gone. The first day of the rest of my life starts today, without him. From now on I will only have memories of him. Memories, and the lock of his fur that I pulled out of the bedroom wastebasket to remember him by.
Published in General
There is sorrow enough in the natural way
From men and women to fill our day,
And when we are certain of sorrow in store,
Why do we always arrange for more?
Brothers and Sisters, I bid you beware
Of giving your heart to a dog to tear.
Buy a pup and your money will buy
Love unflinching that cannot lie—
Perfect passion and worship fed
By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head.
Nevertheless it is hardly fair
To risk your heart for a dog to tear.
When the fourteen years which Nature permits
Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits,
And the vet’s unspoken prescription runs
To lethal chambers or loaded guns,
Then you will find—it’s your own affair—
But… you’ve given your heart to a dog to tear.
When the body that lived at your single will,
With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!).
When the spirit that answered your every mood
Is gone—wherever it goes—for good,
You will discover how much you care,
And will give your heart to a dog to tear.
We’ve sorrow enough in the natural way,
When it comes to burying Christian clay.
Our loves are not given, but only lent,
At compound interest of cent per cent.
Though it is not always the case, I believe,
That the longer we’ve kept ’em, the more do we grieve:
For, when debts are payable, right or wrong,
A short-time loan is as bad as a long—
So why in—Heaven (before we are there)
Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?
The Power of the Dog, by Rudyard Kipling
After I lost Dixie, the family’s Australian Shepherd, I kept seeing her out of the corner of my eye, entering my office like she always did while I was writing. I’d turn, and of course, she wasn’t there. She was 20 when she died. Australian Shepherds are a long-lived breed.
It was nearly a year before that stopped. She’d sit behind me while I wrote. I was her person, to the point she would get in bed at my wife’s spot and would not let my wife get into bed until I kicked Dixie out of there.
I feel for you.
There’s no getting over it or used to it. I spend all day every day with my two dogs and don’t like to think what it will be like when I lose them. It’ll be the first thing you think about every day when you wake up, until one day it’s the second.
Sorry for your loss 😢
thank you for sharing. Buddy was a good dog.
I’m so sorry. They are with us for so short a time. But give your heart some time to grieve and then welcome another dog into your life. There are so many with so much love to give.
All of us who give our hearts to our dear companion animals know only too well the tremendous loss you have experienced. They become so intertwined with our lives and our homes-always there, always near to us-that the loss is felt a 1000 ways every day. But you know the only thing worse than losing him would have been to never have shared your life with Buddy. I wouldn’t trade a minute of joy with my beautiful companions for years of grief over their loss.
I can’t think of anything to say to make the moment easier. About six years ago, my daughter’s golden retriever had cancer and passed away while she was veterinarian school. He was her best friend.
Her local golden retriever rescue organization called her three years ago and asked her to take a golden retriever puppy with “behavior problems.” This was after a fellow veterinarian asked her to take in two Siamese kittens who had been left in a shoebox by her friend’s back door. My daughter didn’t really want to. But she has a natural talent for working with dogs and shaping their behavior. She was worried that some other owner wouldn’t be able to help this golden become more sociable. She has been very successful with this dog who needed her especially. :-)
This is her peaceable kingdom:
When our first dog died–a beautiful husky-shepherd mix–my six-year-old son couldn’t get over it. He was crying inconsolably every night when we put him to bed. We didn’t know what to do. We talked to our veterinarian. He said this happens sometimes to children. There’s only one cure, and that’s to get him another dog. So we did. We got him a little golden retriever puppy. It really did help. :-)
My dogs are 12 and 13 and in good health, but I cherish every day with them. They can be bossy, and pests and one of them is digging in the back yard, but I love them. The home would just be a house without them. The loss of a dog is hard. They love us with all our faults.
Open your heart to a new dog. I think Buddy would love that.
I know the feeling: that spot where they aren’t. All the happy habits suddenly snipped. The sight of the water dish can unman you completely.
Dog-shaped holes can only be filled by another dog, and perhaps it’s meet and right that they do not fill them exactly, but push and stretch until they’ve filled the space with their own shape.
There is a dog that needs you, and you will find them when the time is right. Meanwhile, take comfort in the time you had, and in the fact that you are the kind of people who have room in their hearts for small animals.
We had to put our lab Hunter to sleep about 12 years ago. He was 14 and he had been with us for 12 of those years. He was a rescue and at first he was scared of every male because he had been abused. He was there for the birth of both of our kids and was a companion to my wife and my first lab Spooky in his later years. He was always a poor comparison to Spooky because Spooky could talk (sort of he could say “I love you” and “dog bone”, well, we heard him say that), and was super smart. At the end of Hunter’s life his hind legs were so weak he had trouble with the stairs and often ended up sliding down them. He also could not control his bowels and I would often see an object on the floor at night and not be sure if it was from Hunter or one of the kids had left a car or toy on the floor. But he followed my wife up and down the stairs all day, every day to be with her. Finally he needed release and we had to let him go. For months afterwards I would see a dark object on the floor at night and wonder if he had left me a gift. Of course he hadn’t, but it was close to year before I didn’t think that. Its funny the things that we miss from our fur family. With Hunter it was his inability to not bite you if you gave him food (we are fairly certain he was nearsighted and just could not judge where the food stopped and your hand began, you learned to feed him treats sideways), his lovable shyness, his ability to make every female that saw him melt into petting and loving him, and his intense and abiding loyalty to us that form that memory of him that I will always keep. Heck, its been over a decade since he left us and thinking about him makes my eyes water and my nose run. I still do that about our first dog Spooky and he ahs been gone for almost 20 years.
This is Hunter about a year before he passed, I couldn’t find another photo to share about him. He was a damn good dog and while he has left a hole in my heart, just as Spooky did, I don’t actually want that hole filled…it’s unique. Hunter helped with Spooky’s passing, but we didn’t have another dog when he passed and it made it much harder. Even so, Hunter never replaced Spooky, and our current pup Artemis never could replace Hunter, though she is named for him.
Oh God I feel your pain
Greatly sorry for your loss. Sounds as though Buddy had you well trained. I’ve always had boxers and they live about 10 years. The day after they die, I’m always looking for another boxer.
Deeply sad that Buddy has gone to doggy heaven. Ricochet is definitely an animal-loving site. So many stories, pictures, even groups dedicated to pets. I hope this sentiment helps a bit, but I believe (sincerely) that Buddy is currently the top dog in heaven. God gives us our beloved pets for a time, and my guess is that Buddy had the best dog life because you and your family cared for him. That being said, Buddy will be part of your greeting entourage in heaven one day, the group that passed before you, and wish they could tell you they are ok.
Some say – well, there’s no proof that animals go to heaven, but there is proof. The Bible. We know because Jesus returns one day riding a horse. There are the four horses of the Apocalypses (not to get all cryptic on you). It describes the day when “the lion will lay down with the lamb”. Many churches and cathedrals throughout the world show great works of art drawn from those very images and they show animals. There are birds – the dove of peace for example. Buddy is there and glad that you took good care of him in his dog life – so many animals wish they had you for a family.
https://www.kingjamesbibleonline.org/Bible-Verses-About-Animals-In-Heaven/
God bless Buddy!
It’s tough. My daughter picked Shock, short for Rorschach, he was half black lab and half Australian Sheppard, ugly, stinky, about 10months old. Kennel recommend against taking him as he was beyond training and difficult they said. My daughter wanted him and I’d promised. Best dog I ever owned and we always had dogs. Didn’t train him at all, he knew everything and if not learned it with one instruction. He’d been abandoned and survived for months in Jackson Wy. winter. It seems he didn’t want that again. We got another pup several years latter, who loved him. He couldn’t stand her, but learned from her as well and accepted her. She died shortly after he did, missed him I guess. He’d worn his body out swimming the powerful Snake river, or wherever I was fishing. He sat quietly while I cast my fly, then I’d have to throw a stick in the river for a while before moving to a new hole. He’d go skiing occasionally but I usually went to Teton Village where he couldn’t go. Never got another dog.
It certainly is. When I first wrote this post I didn’t intend it for Ricochet. I wrote it that evening just to express my thoughts as a private cathartic exercise, sitting on the sofa across the living room from Buddy’s empty bed. It wasn’t until it was finished that I thought, “I should post this to Ricochet.” I simply changed the first sentence into the title of the post, added a couple of photos, and posted it.
Thank you, everyone, for your comments. They really are a comfort. What a great community we have here.
Thanks for writing such a beautiful tribute.
Our Finn has entered the hospice phase with our vet today saying the goal is to find the right balance of meds for him to continue to enjoy his time on this earth – he needs steriods for mobility. I’ve been at home with him every day, except vacations, for 12 years. And now we are just hoping he stays well until the kids come home for Christmas. I fear it will be a close run thing – but we’re trying.
Our Finn has passed. We went away a few days for Thanksgiving, but he took a rapid turn for the worse and passed at the home of friend. It’s our first day back – and we cried like babies when we cleared up his towels, rugs and the like. I do wish I had been there for him at the end, but we know he was comforted by being with a familiar, trusted face. But to echo Jeff, the house is unnaturally quiet, and I don’t know quite what to do. The first day of the rest of my life without him.
Raising a glass with a photo from last Christmas Day…
I’ve been wondering about how Finn was doing, Chris. I’m sorry to hear that he didn’t make it to Christmas like you hoped he would. You have my condolences; I know what you’re going through. Be patient, time will slowly ease the pain and fill the emptiness.
Jeff, I appreciate your reply and hope that each day is a better one for you and yours. I “know” it will be that way for us too – just waiting for that to kick in. Best wishes for the holiday season, Chris
I’m so sorry. We lost a beloved dog while everyone was away too. It’s doubly rough but sometimes our loved ones just can’t hold on or don’t want to. I remember a hospice worker saying that she thought that some waited until their loved ones were away to go on their own terms.