He was much more than my Buddy

Good Monday morning, friends. No politics today.

It is with the deepest profound sadness that I report the passing of my beloved Buddy. It happened very fast, and it breaks my heart to know he suffered at the end.

He’d been nothing but his gregarious self. We had a fun Fourth. I noticed an uptick in thirst the last week or so, and actually planned to call the vet Monday morning.

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Buddy had a very rough Saturday night. I’ll spare the details, but realized at daybreak Sunday he was in trouble. Thinking about it, I probably should have acted immediately instead of watching him for a few hours. He’s a dog. He'll bounce back. Happens all the time. That was my dumb thinking.

He was clearly struggling. I called Animal Emergency of Hernando in Spring Hill. By the time we left the house around 10:30 a.m., I had to carry Buddy to the car. That was the longest 45-minute drive of my life, Deb and Buddy in the backseat. Every so often Buddy raised his head. God, he was trying.

The hospital staff was great. Ran a bunch of tests. Blood clot. Critical condition. He was hooked to an IV when we left. I kissed his head. 

“You and me, Buddy,” I whispered.

The doctor called mid-afternoon. The medicine never really got a chance to work. My best friend was gone.

My Buddy. Your Buddy.

I am totally destroyed. I understand that Buddy wasn’t a new model, but I figured we’d be in our prime together. We were roughly the same age. I also realized, not knowing anything about his past, there was a good chance that wouldn’t happen.

So, I made it my priority to give that dog the best life possible for us both. And that meant being the subject of numerous Just Wright Citrus blogs. He was such a good sport.

The best-read blog of 2023 wasn’t my scathing indictment of a local politician. No, it was the day after I grabbed Buddy from wandering aimlessly on U.S. 41 south of Floral City. Readers who are so-so about my thoughts on the sheriff went ga-ga over the Buddy rescue story.

Someone with influence once told me, “You can’t go wrong writing about Buddy."

Because of Just Wright Citrus readers, I was able to introduce Buddy to the Crystal River High School vet-assistant class. He enjoyed being pampered by the kids and the center of attention.

Buddy was happiest at home. He followed me everywhere. Slept on the floor nearby while I worked. Sometimes I’d get up to roam around for inspiration (read: waste time) and return to find Buddy sleeping under my desk. 

Look. I realize our attention is elsewhere at the moment. I’m not minimizing that by writing about the passing of my dog.

Life is about priorities. Buddy and this blog have topped my priority list this year. It's been a tandem. I’m brokenhearted, but I can't dwell on it here. I'll start writing about local politics again tomorrow.

A friend once gave me a God Box. It’s filled with small pieces of paper containing names or circumstances, and one or two-word prayers.

I added Buddy to the God Box in January. Under his name, I wrote: “Blessing.”

We both hit the jackpot that foggy Monday morning in December. God had something special planned together for two old dogs.

I’m not big on requests, but I’ll leave with this:

Hug your best friend today. From me and Buddy.

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