Kacie Johnsen

My Buddy

I suppose Buddy’s story with our family starts as most other pets does: child begs parent for dog, parent says no, repeat for years, parent finally relents. That kid was me, and boy I never could’ve predicted the journey that Buddy would take us on. The day we got Buddy was most likely a Saturday, since that was when the shelter had the adoption trailer outside our local PetSmart. I was around 9 or 10, so my only concerns about this future puppy was that it was, well...a puppy. My mom, being a single mother with me, an apartment, and 2 other pets to take care of (a rabbit and a guinea pig) wanted something medium sized. Easier to care for you know. They brought out baby Buddy, and gosh he was cute. I was sold. The kennel attendant said that he had a fear of men from a previous adoption. Buddy was still very much a puppy when we adopted him, so it hurts me to think of what someone could’ve done to him in such a short amount of time for him to have a phobia that would persist throughout his life. Anyway, papers were signed and adoption fees were paid, and we left with a tiny brown and white puppy in a St Patrick’s day themed green bandanna. I don’t remember everything from that day (it was 20 some odd years ago) but I clearly remember a moment when we first got into the car with Buddy. He had started to cry in my lap and my mom asked if I was sure I wanted this dog. It was one of those turning point moments, a moment that I knew was going to be important. Small me of course said yes, and I’m really glad she did.