About Buddy

 I love my dogs. Anybody who has ever been responsible for/owned by/caretaker for dogs/cats/ferrets/turtles/iguanas/fruit bats/T-Rex's  etc. understands this completely. I have a friend who unfortunately works for the Humane Society, and she keep sending me pictures. Dog porn, the worst kind. Sweet, warm, cuddly puppies and dogs that needed a forever home. 

Normally I can resist, but my steely resolve melted when she sent over an image of Buddy, a five year old Queensland heeler. It was a weak moment; I was probably in my favorite browsing location (the can), when the image came over on my phone. I swiped out of Wordle, and was immediately overcome by feelings of love, tenderness, caring...in short, all the emotions that would make me the perfect mother caretaker. 

He fell out of a truck on the freeway? Fine. He had to have several teeth pulled? No worries. His right paw is almost twice the size of his left? Great. His chest is all scar tissue from multiple surgeries, and he has Valley fever? OK. It sounded like a perfect match, so the next day we met at the Humane Society, and it was love at first bite. Buddy was good natured, enthusiastic, and happy, despite all the trials and tribulations he'd been through. We left together, and I introduced him to Stella, my nine year old Blue Heeler. If they got along, great, otherwise it would be a deal breaker.

But they got along great. Buddy was a typical male. First at the water bowl, first in the car, first through the door. It wasn't personal. It wasn't that he just didn't consider Stella. He didn't consider me, either. Stella, sweet girl that she is, acquiesced. My plan was to give Buddy so much love and affection that he might start thinking outside the envelope of his own ego. 

We've made some progress, but it's slow going. What makes it all worth it is that Buddy persistently wags his tail in his sleep. It's a good sign.