Adventures with Buddy

It was three weeks before he even barked.

The little dog we found hiding behind our house was scared of everything. People, animals, trash cans, cars, and of course his own shadow. He cowered in fear, his tail stuck between his legs, the only show of assertion coming when he thought he could escape. Humans were obviously not his friends.

When my nephew brought the dog inside, we discovered it was carrying around it's own very populated flea community. When I ran my fingers around his body I found an indentation in his rib cage, as if he’d been kicked long ago. He was a cute little thing; like a golden-brown lab/terrier mix but small at about 30 pounds. When his ears weren’t flattened down, they flopped over, giving him a puppy look. The vet said at that point he was about a year old.

I had moved to Texas from Virginia, three years ago, to help with my aging mother and there was quite a household with four adults and three cats. My sister suggested we take him to the shelter, but I was instantly drawn to this defenseless little creature despite the fact that I had lost a dog to cancer two years prior and wasn’t sure I’d ever be ready for another pet. I had always planned on getting my next dog at the shelter – we had some great “mutts” in my family when I was growing up. The shelter is the best place to find a friend.

When someone asked what his name was, my 80-year-old mom blurted out, “Buddy!” I’m not sure where she came up with that, but it sounded like the character on the movie Elf, so we were all okay with that. The constant noise of televisions, people talking, and my nephew’s deep voice was not helping Buddy calm down. Honestly, he was still at risk of being taken to the shelter, especially because he had a couple of accidents in my sister’s house. But once he let me put a leash on him, I took him outside pretty much on the hour. I just kept praising him and encouraging him even when he didn’t do anything. I told him how good he was, about a hundred times a day. And when he did the deed in the yard, I let him know how thrilled I was.

Because he needed a calm space to be in, I brought him into my room since I was the only one who shut my door at night. I made a little bed under a folding table, put his food and water right by it, and left him alone when we weren’t taking a potty break. Funny thing is, it only took Buddy two nights to realize my bed was way more comfortable. He particularly liked the spot behind my knees to curl up in.

One morning I was standing by the bed and I felt a tug on the bottom of my pajama shorts. Buddy was teasing me! He quickly lay back down, his ears flat, but he played a little more each day and his personality started coming out. He also made underneath the bed his “man cave” and that’s where he was when he first barked. When I heard it, I didn’t even know what it was. My sister came to my room and asked, “What was that noise?” Then he barked again. It was muffled but clear. He was ready to alert us to danger but not brave enough to come out and investigate.

It’s a Jungle Out There

I started taking Buddy on longer walks around the neighborhood which he enjoyed as long as we took a wide berth around the big plastic trash cans. (Trash day was not a good day to go out.)

Then we made our way to Landa Park, a huge lake with lots of places to explore, in New Braunfels, Texas. He wasn’t thrilled about getting close to a car, much less in it, but he loved the different smells at the park, especially the duck poop he rolled in. Buddy had to conquer his fears when we came to a long wooden bridge with high, iron rails. We won’t say we cheated – I carried him half way across – but it was a victory. He still hasn’t gotten over the loud, echoes of the public cement bathrooms, but he didn’t have a choice because sometimes his human just has to go.

My Protector

As Buddy became more confident, he became more and more protective, even when we were cuddled up on the bed watching TV. He growled at the other members of the house if they attempted to come in my bedroom. My mom complained that the dog was just like me. Although I agree that I do like my own space, I don’t growl. Much.

It looked like Buddy and I were meant for each other and I took him with me when I got my own apartment. We love our own place and he prances around with his tail wagging and a dog-smile on his face.

He’s a little better at socialization because I agreed to have Tucker, my son’s 80-pound lab move in with us. (It was supposed to be for a couple months; it’s going on a year and a half.) We all get along great although Buddy did establish his alpha role right away. Sometimes he sits right in the middle of the bed on purpose so gentle Tucker is afraid to jump up. He bullies the bigger dog sometimes but for the most part, they’re friends.

Stray to Stay

There are some beautiful pedigrees out there but I really do believe you can find the best pets at the shelter. Whether you chose a companion because of the connection you feel between the kennel bars at the shelter or one shows up at your doorstep and adopts you, it’s a beautiful thing. According to the ASPCA website, 3.2 million shelter animals are adopted each year – 1.6 million cats and 1.6 millions dogs. These are angels who found loving homes.

My scared, little dog has now come into his own, as evident by the way he stands guard at the window. I am truly protected from the elementary kids that skip by and the public buses that dare to park in front of our complex. I rescued Buddy, but if you ask him, it’s the other way around. I don’t know what happen to him before he came into my life and I probably never will, but I am so glad he did. He’s my heart and soul.