If We Loved like Buddy Did

At this moment I have four columns started for the Tuesday’s “Education” page. They each need tweaks I haven’t pinpointed yet, and I doubt all of them will even see print. While writing in the bagel shop this week, I turned to Facebook for a brief distraction and perhaps inspiration. Ok, ok. It was more out of habit and addiction than purpose.

Not much happens among my social network when the weather is beautiful, but my pal Carol’s post stopped my scrolling instantly. “I said goodbye to Buddy today. I held his head, and he went softly.”

I’m glad I’m comfortable in this town and in our bagel shop because my tears flowed freely. I finished my bite of bagel. Wiped my lips. Then my eyes. Then my nose. I needed more napkins for my nose.

Buddy was Carol’s beloved golden retriever. My own golden retriever is about to turn 13 and her sister, my former step dog, will be 14 in August. Both are losing their hearing and sight and have tumors scattered amidst their silvery golden fur. While mowing the lawn or riding my bike, I have found my mind writing their memorials before I even realize where my thoughts traveled. I love these golden girls, but neither of them is as great a dog as Buddy was.

Carol’s post continued, “Buddy was such a beautiful boy. I know why they call him ‘golden’. Buddy served people all of his life. He was a Counseling Dog for 10 years. He sat with kids who were sad or scared. He looked in the eyes of big strong men as they softly told him they had one like him.”

While playing city league basketball a few years ago, I wobbled out of the Hawthorne gym at half time to lean on the drinking fountain. I noticed a clipping from the ISJ on an office door. It was Carol’s office and it was an article about Buddy’s work as a therapy dog. He was handsome on his own but with his signature bandana, he was downright dashing.

The newspaper article talked about Buddy’s work during the weeks after the 2012 Newton, Connecticut school shooting and how he had come to be treasured therapy dog at Syringa Elementary and then at Hawthorne Middle School. Buddy spent time as a calming and welcoming fixture at the threshold of Carol’s office at the top of Hawthorne’s main stairs.

Carol continued, “Buddy was my companion. He loved me always. He was there for me always. He trusted me always. Buddy loved to camp with the girls. Buddy loved going to school. Buddy loved the dog park. Buddy just simply loved.”

He did. He really, really did. I saw him in action a few times and was enchanted by his panting grin. Our world would be better if we loved like Buddy did. If we just simply loved.