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Today,
October 17, 2002, Buddy went to heaven.
He was a very sick little Bichon and although we know it is the best
thing for him, we will miss him very much.
Here
is his story.
My name is Buddy. Well, actually that’s my nickname. But everyone calls me that. My real name is somewhat of a mystery. You see, I am adopted. The Godzeno family saw an ad in the paper offering me to someone who would give me a good home. Since they already had Hercules, they decided another Bichon would be a good idea. Company for Hercules and the two cats already part of the family.
My past history is a bit vague. An older woman had been taking care of me but was unable to do so any longer. I ended up at a place where Bichons were raised. When the Godzenos came to see me the lady in charge referred to me as “Budweiser.” Maybe that’s how I got to be called “Buddy.” My care was not the best; when the Godzenos adopted me they found me a bit unkempt, needing various immunizations and with two badly decayed back teeth which had to be removed. Now I have trouble chewing, and most food goes down with a single gulp. That doesn’t affect my appetite. I’m always ready to eat and will steal from Hercules' plate whenever I can. I like to beg at mealtimes. I have been known to leap unexpectedly into an unprotected lap at the table and thrust out my tongue to lap a bit of food from someone’s plate. While I don’t get punished, I do get strongly chastised. Hercules, the gentleman, would never do such a thing.
With trips to the beauty parlor and a good diet I now am fine. My fur has benefited; it is nice and white and curly. And my tail has progressed from scraggly to a fine appendage.
There have been problems which I and my family have been working on. Perhaps as a result of my early life I am very aggressive. Poor Hercules can’t contend with me, so he just withdraws and looks so sad. He has not reconciled himself to sharing the attention of the family. The fact that I sort of push him out of laps and take his place doesn’t help. I must say, however, that the Godzenos are good about seeing that I don’t get all the attention. We are both well loved canines.
I love to go out for walks. Whenever anyone stands up, I’m ready. It doesn’t matter that all they were doing was changing positions or stretching. If they reach for their coat or hat, that also is a signal to me. I’m right at their feet looking up at them with an expectant gaze. Hercules is much more laconic and often reluctant to leave his comfortable spot for a mundane stroll. Perhaps it’s because when we are outside together I take the lead sniffing and squirting at every opportunity. When I scratch, Herc gets covered with dirt, leaves and other debris. No wonder he’s reluctant. Outdoors I wander in all directions,getting the leash tangled in anything in my way as well as around my legs or mixed up with Hercule’s leash, a constant problem for the person walking me.
Another problem I create is a result of not having had potty training in my formative years. I like to leave my mark everywhere, and am not fussy whether it is outside or in the house. Hercules, on the other hand was perfectly trained, but I’m afraid I have corrupted him. Wherever I lift my leg, he does the same. That’s OK outside, but my family is not happy when it happens inside.
Despite these and other problems I create, Hercules and I get along pretty well, although there are times when one or the other of us gets upset about something and we briefly squabble. Nothing too serious, though. It’s different with the cats. They just don’t seem to like me, and I find it wise to avoid them.
Hercules and I visit Grandma and Grandpa Clarke most Sundays. When we arrive grandma has a treat ready. I have to remind her, though, which I do by dancing before her, jumping into her lap, then down, and running back and forth to the kitchen where I know she stores the treats. Hercules stands quietly by waiting for his treat, but without any demonstration. When we get our treats I have to be prevented from taking Herc’s. He likes to sniff his a bit before he accepts it. This allows me time to devour mine and try to appropriate his. Sometimes we stay overnight and snuggle between grandpa and grandma on the bed. They don’t seem to mind except when I crawl up on the pillow. We are always exuberantly happy, though, when our family retrieves us to return home. Both of us jump high with joy and bark loudly to show our pleasure.
But enough said. I consider myself very fortunate to have been found and adopted by such a fine family. I am working at improving my behavior, but not too hard. I am confident that my family will continue to forgive my transgressions. I know I am loved, and I try to return that love.
In case you missed Hercules' page you can go there now.
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