Buddy - A True Friend

Even though I had grown up in a family that always had at least one dog and a cat, it had been years since I was around a puppy. When my husband, Mark, decided it was time to get a Golden Retriever, I thought it was a great idea - until he brought this little ball of fur home. I’ll never forget holding Buddy up to my face and smelling that puppy breath and saying, "Yuck. He smells funny."  

In no time flat, though, Buddy had won me over, heart and soul. And later, as Buddy grew older, I would take his head in my hands, kiss his forehead and joke about that special "Aroma de Buddy" only he had and that I had grown to love. A typical Golden, he was the quintessential water dog. We bought a kiddie wading pool just for him so he could cool off by lying down in it or by diving for toys. It was just the right height so he could stretch out next to it, rest his head on the edge and watch the back of the house for any signs of activity. We took him to the ocean, and he and Mark would race up and down the sand, splashing through the waves as they ebbed and flowed.  

He also was especially fond of diving for rocks. We took him to the American River on a regular basis, and he would retrieve rock after rock after rock. And of course we had the required tennis balls, the perennial favorites of Goldens, which were thrown and thrown and . . . well, you get the picture. 

Because of Buddy, I could finally understand the kind of love parents have for their children. Although we don’t have "human" kids, I felt as protective of him as any parent does for their child. When he was attacked by a pit bull, I instinctively grabbed Buddy and put him behind me, using myself as a shield. It wasn’t smart, but I wasn’t thinking; I was feeling. Fortunately, no harm was done.  

As time wore on, Buddy’s face showed his age, becoming totally white. He had hip dysplasia, but although it slowed him down a little, it never stopped him. He was a real trooper, through and through. 

Right around his tenth birthday in August of 1993, Buddy began to lose weight rapidly. When we took him to the vet’s, they had to run a series of tests to determine the problem. The diagnosis finally came back. Buddy had leukemia, which is very rare for dogs. There was no cure, but there was some experimental drug therapy that would give him some quality of life for a little while - no one knew how long.  

We started him on the therapy and started cramming every day with all the things we knew Buddy loved the best. We went to the mountains; we went to the ocean; we went to the river. We hugged and kissed on him constantly.

One day while at the American River, Buddy picked up a rock - really, it was a small boulder - and wanted to dive for it. He could barely get his mouth around it, but he would grab it out of the water and bring it back to us. When it was time to leave, Buddy carried that rock all the way back to the truck, something he’d never done before.

He must have known, because he never made it back to the river. He quickly became too ill to eat, and he began to waste away right before our eyes.It was time to make the trip we’d been dreading. Before leaving, I remember lying down on the floor beside him and crying.

At the vet’s we said our final good-byes and watched as Buddy gently fell asleep for the last time.  

I learned many lessons from Buddy. There wasn’t a mean bone in his body; he wasn’t judgmental and he was affectionate towards everybody. He taught me the true meaning of unconditional love, because that’s what he had for us.

Oh, and the small boulder Buddy brought back from the river now sits in front of his picture in our bedroom, a lasting memento from a loving member of our family.

Debra Codiga