I was in the country with a friend checking out a farm for sale. I exited one of the many tattered barns and as I came around the bend Buddy was just standing there. He appeared as a hologram floating in the mist, in the fog.
It had been almost a decade since we last were together. I thought of him every day and while most of the thoughts were happy and provided me with wonderful memories of our life together; there were always those waves that washed over me at night - a tide burying me somewhere in the sand.
But now he stood in front of me and the hologram transitioned into all of Buddy and his beauty - just the way I remembered him -- healthy, handsome and goofy of course.
Buddy was quite a character. He was my birthday present when I turned 30 ( a Flat Coat Retriever we adopted from a shelter) and shortly thereafter I received a diagnosis that rocked my world. I was sick for years and Buddy was right there with me all the way.
Buddy went everywhere with me and his Dad. For anyone who plans their vacations and any outings entirely around their dog - you can understand how integral their companionship and presence is in your life.
Like most dogs he had his wild and uninhibited side. He chased a family of skunks into their den and well let's just say they all partook in his communal shower. He got us kicked out of a campground because he decided it would be a good idea to visit each and every site/trailer to say hello and see if the hosts might offer him a hot dog or even better a steak.
He ran onto a lake that was thinly covered in ice, fell through and started swimming away from the shore. I snaked out on the ice to rescue him knowing that we both could succumb to hypothermia and drown.
His life came before mine and then that same winter I fell through the ice while walking Buddy. He pulled me back up to the surface putting my life before his.
He loved Friday nights and quickly figured out how to grab the Challah (bread) from the kitchen counter.
One night while we were all asleep he found a fresh apple pie (definitely pre-meditated having watched us that afternoon unpack the groceries). He ate the entire pie and then hid the plate under the couch.
He ate everything and anything - there were socks and underwear coming out of him like a washer/dryer. He farted so bad you had to clear the room and not come back for 30 minutes (and he smiled with pride each time).
But mostly he was a wonderful, warm companion and he was my son.
One night at the age of 13, after a great day of swimming in the lake and running in the woods - he collapsed from a massive stroke - no warning, no chance to say a real goodbye and by morning he was gone.
I remember being at the Vet and holding hime not wanting or knowing how to leave. Given he had not deteriorated from Cancer or some other disease, his beautiful face, glistening coat - were still in tact. The light had left his eyes and I could feel part of his soul slip into mine. Then he departed to a far better place.
I went through the same process as everyone - wondering if he knew how much I loved him and wishing I had said thank you more - thank you for enriching my life the way only a dog can.
In the dream - he came to me and we hugged - I held him as close as I could never wanting to let go but he was being summoned and I could hear the calls like a whisper in the wind.
He told me he was in a safe and happy place with other dogs. They all watched out for one another and they played and shared their peanut butter/cheese/cookie Kongs.
He told me he loved me and missed me as much as I did him and that although it was rare for him to be able to penetrate the wall between our world and his beautiful place of peace; he was able to do so for fractions of a second from time to time.
Then he walked away and vanished into the white, into the blue, into a place I have never been.
Maybe forever but I hope not because forever is far too long.
Dogs are a gift. They are only with us for a short time but in that period they teach us what it really means to love and to be in the moment. They make us better people.
Bless you Buddy.
And to my readers everywhere - Bless the precious souls you have lost. I hope they visit you in your dreams.
