A Lifetime of Buddy

“Come on Buddy, let's get some breakfast,” Teddy called out as he woke. These were usually the first words that left his lips in the morning. As Teddy moved from laying to sitting with a laboured grunt, he looked toward the window of the room. The blinds were open only a sliver, and this allowed thin beams of pink morning light to cast in on a diagonal, ending at the floor.

Another cold one.

This had been one of the coldest winters on record, and although early February had seen a little more sun than January had allowed; it was still god damned cold. Standing now, Teddy ran his fingers through the thin wisps of hair that still remained on his head. Finding his robe on the rocking chair next to the bed, he set out for the kitchen.

“Come on Buddy! Get up you lazy rascal.” Teddy’s voice echoed through the hall in a deep gravel.

Buddy was where he always was, sleeping coiled on the tweed sofa in the living room. When Teddy entered the room, Buddy looked up at him and his tail immediately began to wag. Teddy had always found Buddy, well, this Buddy anyway, to be very enthusiastic when he first saw him in the morning. Whether this was an enthusiasm for his master or merely for breakfast, he could never decide.

The familiar clammer of the food hitting the bowl brought the young dog around quickly, and he began to eat greedily. Turning his head from the dog, Teddy looked out the kitchen window. This was one hell of a deep freeze they were having, and he had definitely grown tired of the sight of it. The beautiful lakeside town he lived in had been reduced to a silent, frozen waste. Pop had told him once that winter was much harder on old bones, but the arrogance of youth hadn’t allowed him to believe it then. By the time Teddy had turned sixty, though, he knew his father’s words had been the gospel truth. Sixty had been seventeen years ago, and if there had ever been a winter where his bones felt it, it was this one.

The mornings routines had a pleasantness to them. One fried egg and four strips of (reduced sodium) bacon for breakfast, heat up yesterday’s coffee in the microwave, get dressed and bundled up for the ride. For his age, Teddy moved with a grace that masked his years. Never one to complain, he found that people asked less questions if it looked like you were never hurting, never creaking. He had never been one to embrace unpleasantness, not even in his youth. Theodore St. George always had an easy smile on his lips and and an ease of conversation that was warming to most people.

Running the comb he kept in his front pocket through his hair, he caught a reflection of the picture on the wall behind him in the bathroom. It was black and white, and in a gold doilied frame. It was two very young people dancing on what looked to be a wedding day, a lifetime ago.

“Good morning, Dear,” He said to the frame as that easy smile crept over his lips. He smiled at that frame every morning as though he were smiling at Rachel herself; that picture reminding him that yes it really was fifty five years ago. They had been married for forty nine years and she had been gone for six now, and although it had never been a fairy tale: it had been damn good. He reflected for a moment how he’d had Buddy #2 when they were married, and then set out to gather up Buddy #7.

Closing the front door behind them, the cold hit his face unmercifully. The winter morning that had seemed so silent from inside the house now was a swirling cacophony of wind. He looked at his truck and then to Buddy, and they both hastened their steps toward the shelter of the truck’s cab. Teddy had bought this ‘98 F150 new, and had treated it like his baby. He wasn’t going to be one of those old men who died with 20,000 miles on his car; Teddy loved to travel, and so had Rachel. The bulk of the truck’s 167,000 miles had been put on while he and Rachel traveled across the US, leaving shortly after Teddy retired from the New Hampshire Roads Commision. They had winterized their small New Hampshire home in the fall of 2000 and after doing so, headed west. Nothing but them, old Buddy #5, their savings, and maps for retracing the route of the now broken Route 66 from Chicago to Los Angeles.

The cold had made the sound of the truck starting far more viscous, each turn a groan of labor. When the truck finally turned over, Teddy cranked the heat and impatiently waited for the truck to warm, rubbing Buddy’s scruff to pass the time. After a few minutes, he put the truck into gear and started out down his long driveway. The driveway was lined with the tall pines that you find everywhere in this part of New England, and although it was cold the sun had melted the bulk of the snow from the needles. Thankfully that same sun had melted the thin snow from the blacktop of the driveway, too. The driveway had a steep slope that was known to send two wheel drive vehicles into a slide on even the thinnest sheets of slushy snow. He looked back at the house, remembering fondly the day that he had signed the mortgage. He smiled as he remembered seeing that enormous sum at the top of the bank agreement: $11,750. Hell, that had seemed a small fortune in 1960. It was never more than a modest two bedroom house, and over the years he and Rachel had never felt a need to expand on it too much. Not even after Jack was born. A remodel here and there maybe, but for the most part they were happy it was theirs and it was all they needed.

The house faded from the rear view as Teddy got closer to the street. He had lived in New Hampshire most of his life, despite being born in Maine. It was after moving here from Maine that Pop had gotten him Buddy #1 at the age of eight. That first Buddy had always been Teddy’s favorite, and had lived to be sixteen. He looked down at Buddy #7 and smiled, thinking that this Buddy hasn’t been so bad. He was only two, and was just as curious as a dog could get. He found that his age was no match for the enthusiasm and energy of his young companion, but he enjoyed the challenge of trying to keep up. Over the years, as it became time to find a new pup that would be the next Buddy, he had no criteria for breed or sex. It was always personality. He had been pretty lucky in this capacity over the years, and was thankful for it.

* * *

It was around ten o’clock when he got to the boat launch that morning. There were no boats, of course because the lake was covered in a deep freeze. As he and Buddy hopped out of the truck he looked out over the sprawling Lake Winnipesaukee. This time of year it was a beautiful frozen tundra, the lake’s surface frozen flat against the backdrop of the snow covered White Mountains to the north. The lake’s surface was covered in small towns of ice fishing shanties that stretched from the boat launch all of the way into the center of the lake and what seemed like miles beyond. There seemed to be hundreds of them. The freeze had been so deep this year that many men had driven their trucks straight down the boat launch ramp and out onto the ice. This morning two men had made a horseshoe pit out on the ice and were launching horseshoes and insults at each other amidst laughter. It was a beautiful boomtown that only existed in winter, and this was where Teddy came most days to walk Buddy.

Not one to chance his truck falling through the ice, Teddy opted to park it in the lot. Shutting the door of the truck behind them they began their walk around the lot. Despite wearing snow pants, thermal boots, a hooded jacket and gloves, Teddy found himself chilled on this morning. Turning to the familiar camper at the end of the lot, he thought about grabbing a cup of Miss Bee’s coffee.

Miss Bee was a retired school bus driver, and had retrofitted her Airstream Camper into a tiny sandwich/bait/coffee shop in the lot. Everyone knew Miss Bee. She had been a fixture at that boat launch for what seemed to be a lifetime. Everyone that came through this launch in the winter had either had a cup of her coffee, one of her sandwiches, or at least been subject her personality that she dealt out in spades.

“Miss Bee’s Bait and Food” The handpainted sign hung over the rusted awning on the camper. He could see her behind the plexiglass window, hard at the days work. He knocked on the window.

“Is the health department still letting you serve that 10w30 you call coffee back there?” Teddy taunted up to her as she opened the window.

“As long as the DMV is still letting your old ass operate a motor vehicle, I’ll be serving the coffee.” She spat back quickly through a thick Maine accent, a hint of a smile crawling over her lips.

“Fair enough,” Teddy said back smiling. “They catchin’ any out there?”

“Just like I told you yesterday and I’ll tell you tomorrow Ted, I ain’t the fishin’ report.”

“And its a good thing!” Teddy quipped back, taking his coffee. He waived at Miss Bee, and he and Buddy were on to their walk. He had loved to fish. Especially ice fishing. Teddy would spend an entire day on the ice, coming home well after dark on a Saturday or Sunday. Sometimes he would have a stringer of fish, sometimes he didn’t. He even used to have a nice little shanty and a propane heater. The perfect set up, if you’d have asked him before. That all changed the second year after Rachel passed.

Teddy had often towed the line between stubborn and careless, usually staying on this side of stubborn. One night, however, he had gotten into a huge school of crappie and stayed out long after dark. On the way back in he noticed that there was no one in the lot except his truck, and he was alone pulling his sled full of gear behind him. The wind had been fast and sharp that day, and blown most of the loose snow off of the ice, leaving it exposed. About halfway in, he slipped. Feet coming straight out from under him, his back hit the ice with a thud that sent paralyzing pain through his entire body. Laying there, staring up at the night sky, unable to get up for almost an hour, Teddy was sure that he was going to die. All that he could do was stare up at the stars and concentrate on trying to move, but the pain in his side was so severe that he was sure he was paralyzed. Involuntary tears froze to his cheeks as the violent wind swept past his face. He thought of his wife, and a small part of him was ready to go then. But then he pictured his son Jack in Indiana with his grandkids he rarely got to see and how he never would want to be found out here like this by complete strangers. He lay on the ice for a few more minutes before somehow being able to crawl to his truck, to his home, and to Buddy #6.

Teddy rarely thought of that day, or the weeks of recovery from the bruised discs in his back that followed. However for a reason that he was never able to place: that was the last day he ever went ice fishing. He was perfectly content taking Buddy down here a few days a week, letting all of the young people pet him and ask him questions like “How old is he?” “What’s his name?” “Can I pet him?” These never annoyed Teddy, and quite frankly he was thankful for the company. He found that people will rarely come up to an old man and start a conversation with him, but if that old man has a dog: its a different story.

Today, being as bright as it was, the lot was full of men and women alike unloading their fishing gear, eager to get it all setup for the afternoon bite. ATV’s, snowmobiles and sleds were all headed down the ramp in a hurry. A young boy, bundled up to the point of looking like a vegetable waddled over to him and Buddy, and almost immediately Buddy was happy to hold up his end of their unspoken arrangement: wag his tail and start lapping at his face. The boy couldn’t have been more than eight years old, and laughed as the retriever excitedly lapped at his face. He patted the top of his head, and looked up at Teddy.

“Whats his name?” The boy asked politely.

“Buddy,” Teddy said back to him in his deep voice, smiling wide. The boy’s parents sauntered over and politely asked their son to stop bothering the nice man to which he replied,

“Oh, it's no trouble at all. Whats your name, son?”

“Steven, I’m seven.” The boy replied; announcing his age like a badge of honor, as most young children do.

“Are you now? Is this your first time ice fishing?”

“Yes, my dad says it's going to be fun.”

“Oh it will be, as long as you watch out for the sharks that live down there. I’ve heard they can bite right through the ice!”

The boy looked up at the old man with a look that was both fearful and intrigued. Teddy looked at him solemnly for a few seconds before bursting into laughter. The boy laughed with nervous eyes.

“I’m just kidding,” Teddy said through reassuring laughter. His parents smiled at him graciously, herding their boy back over to their car.

Teddy couldn’t help but be reminded of telling that exact same story the first time that he had taken Jack ice fishing. His own father had told him the same tale when they had first fished together years before. Jack would go out fishing with Teddy from time to time throughout his adolescence, never for more than a few hours. Jack had always been more of an academic, Ted always more hands on. This fundamental difference had always lead to them never really having an understanding of each other. A theme in their relationship that continued to this day. They had never been the type to argue, or lose tempers with each other, but were never going out of their way to see one another either. When Jack left for college in Indiana in 1990, around the time of Buddy #5, he made his annual trips home at Thanksgiving and Christmas. He met his wife Aubrey that first year and began summering with their family in Indy. Gradually the trips home became less and less, and the year after Rachel passed, they stopped altogether.

The duo continued their walk around the parking lot. Teddy did the same as he always did; asking returning fisherman if they had any luck, asking fisherman heading out what part of the lake they were heading to. Teddy always had an anecdote to share, some old joke or fish story that always started with, “Hey, did ya hear the one about the…” Most of the time he knew that they were just humoring an old man, and usually laughed a little harder at his jokes than they would have normally. But he didn’t mind. It was good to talk. Aside from Buddy here, and the monthly Euchre tournament at Barley’s Pub, this was his time to talk.

They walked and walked that afternoon, the bright winter sun making it a bit easier to bear the frigid temperature. For the first time in months it felt like the sun was truly warm on his cheeks, and it made Teddy a happier man for it. Today had turned out to be beautiful. He was never a pious man, but days like today made him feel like God was rewarding them for enduring this long winter. He spotted a group of guys unloading their gear for the four o’clock bite and interrupted them with the old line:

“Did ya hear the one about the bank robber? Guy walks into a bank with a bandana over his mouth to rob the place, but when he looks at the teller the bandana falls down a little, showing his face. He says to the teller, ‘Did ya see my face?’ The teller says ‘Yeah.’ BANG the robber shoots her dead. He asks the next teller the same question and the teller says ‘Yeah’ and BANG! He shoots her too. Theres an old couple in line behind the robber and the old husband says ‘Sir, I didn’t see your face but I’m pretty sure my wife here did!’”

The two guys burst into laughter, and of course Teddy laughed hardest of all. They laughed and talked about the sunshine, the guys both took turns petting Buddy and exchanging a few fish stories. They hopped on their ATV and headed out onto the lake, Teddy watching as the ATV disappeared into the vastness of the Shanty Town.

Buddy and Teddy would often return to the truck a few times to warm up and listen to talk radio. They would spend fifteen minutes at a time letting the heater blast them while watching the trucks come and go from the ice, as well as watching the crowd around the horseshoe pits get more populated and more rowdy as the days fishing (and usually drinking) went on. Teddy himself had never really been one for more than a couple of beers when he was younger, but now that he was pushing eighty the thought of drinking didn’t entice him at all. It had always been more fun to watch the guys come off of the ice, slurring a little while boasting about the days catch.

After warming up for awhile, Teddy thought it might be a good idea to grab a sandwich from Miss Bee. He hopped out of the truck and walked over toward the rusty tin can of an Airstream. Looking down at Buddy, the dog had the realization in his eyes that this would probably result in part of a sandwich for him, too. Buddy knew the routine.

“What’s an old man got to do to get a sandwich?” He called out, knocking on the window.

“You could keep it down for starters, ya old fart!” Miss Bee called back, feigning annoyance. She knew this was her part to play.

“I’ll take a Reuben-”

“With no sauerkraut and extra dressing.” Miss Bee cut him off, “You think I got amnesia since yesterday?” She asked him, her rhetoric bringing a smile to both of their faces. She was as hardened as a woman could be, but he never found it to be cruel. Endearing, actually. Teddy wasn’t so sure her husband Phil would have agreed, he was always sitting in the back of the camper, as quiet as a man could be. Never seeming to hear his boisterous wife. Teddy looked in and waved at Phil, who looked past his paper and nodded at the old man in single, uncommunicative motion.

Teddy couldn’t help but wonder if it had always been that way between the two of them. They never seemed to speak to one another. It made him think of Rachel, the way that they had been in the few years after Jack left home and before she had gotten sick. Just living with one another, passing from room to room. As soon as their Great Western Adventure had come to an end, it was like all of the air had been taken from their marriage. Those years were the toughest for Teddy. He never lacked love for his wife and she never lacked love for him, but they had just run out of things to talk about. Their only child had left and started a family of their own. They had built a beautiful life together that had everything that it needed. Yet they were as bored as two people could be. They tried forming hobbies together, but nothing would ever stick. They tried traveling again, and always had a good time, but it just wasn’t the same as it had been before.

The change came when Rachel and Teddy both found out that she had cancer. As odd as it may seem, this became the most loving year that they had experienced since before Jack left the house. They had a renewed appreciation for their presence in each others lives, and Teddy could remember exactly why he had decided to spend the rest of his life with her. She handled her illness the way that she handled everything in her life; with grace and a determination that empowered everyone around her. That year had been a whirlwind for the both of them, and when she went quietly in her sleep one night next to him, he was overcome with relief that her suffering had ended. He knew how lucky he had been to spend forty nine years with a woman who had never stopped loving him. He found it oddly selfish to grieve for too long, knowing that he had been blessed with a marriage that had stood for that amount of time. He was lucky. Losing her was still the greatest loss in his life, and it had happened so suddenly and so quietly. Buddy #6 had lived a few more years after that, and he still looked for her every morning.

* * *

Walking from the trailer, sandwich in hand, Teddy occasionally threw Buddy scraps of corned beef which he always caught in mid air. One of the troubles with the middle of a New England winter is that it can start getting dark around four o’clock, and that is something a man can never get used to. It was just after four when the sun was beginning to cast long shadows across the tops of the trees, making the surface of the lake look like it was covered in fallen logs. The low winter sun made the snow and ice shimmer with a golden hue that was beautiful to watch from the cab of the truck.

As the sun lowered further, he watched the daily migration of sleds, ATV’s, trucks and snowmobiles make their way back toward the ramp. Some men packed away their shanties, while some left their wooden ones out on the ice. These wooden ones would get used day after day all winter until they just fell through the ice during the spring thaw. This would be the last part of the day that Teddy and Buddy would make their rounds, they had been sitting in the truck for the better part of an hour, listening to the radio and staying warm.

Hopping down from the truck, the duo again made their rounds. The family with the small boy was loading their gear in the trailer as the son slept in the back of their Jeep. He asked the parents if the boy had fun to which they politely said yes. He found the two men that he talked to on their way out, who had turned back because it was, “just too God damned cold to fish tonight.” He talked to a few other fisherman and shared a few more anonymous laughs before starting back toward the F150.

On his way back in he saw a man loading gear in the trunk of his car and asked him if he’d had any luck.

“Lucky I didn’t fall through the damn ice maybe, but thats about the end of it.” The man said to Teddy. They both laughed. The man was about Teddy’s age and the two of them began to talk as Buddy sat quietly between them.

“I’ve been coming here fishing since I was ten years old.” Teddy told the man.

“Just moved up here from Mass last year, its nice to get out of the apartment when I can.” The man said. He went on to explain to Teddy that he worked at a greeter at the mall in town, just to kick tires. As it turns out, the man had lost his wife ten years ago and had gotten tired of the same scenery day after day. So he packed up and came up north to New Hampshire. They talked for a time as cars filed from the lot. They had a lot in common, and connected over losses in life.

“Its tough, you know? Sometimes I feel like I’m just passing the time without her here,” The man said.

“I know how you feel, friend.” Teddy said solemnly, looking at the man. He couldn’t help but feel an enormous pang of empathy for him.

“Sometimes I feel like the world is just going by at a hundred miles an hour, and I just don’t want to, or know how keep up.” He paused for a moment, and they both looked west over the lake at the quickly setting sun. It was burning red now. “ Eh, no one wants to hear an old man complain, much less another old man!” The man said, and they laughed together quietly. Teddy shook the man’s hand as he got in his car and drove out of the lot.

Teddy realized that him and Buddy were alone in the lot, and the gathering dark quickly reminded him of the night that he had fallen. Although he wasn’t on the ice this time, it sent a quick wave of fear through him. Teddy and Buddy got into their truck and began the short journey back home.

The two of them got home and Buddy sank eagerly into his dinner. Teddy watched a little news idly after hanging his winter gear out to dry in the laundry room.

He couldn’t help but think about the day. It seemed like every day of his life was just another day spent reminiscing on the past, but he was sure that he didn’t mind. The people and events that he loved were all in the past now, and he was happy to spend his days there. It was just him and the Seventh Buddy in a long line of Buddy’s. That was all that was left of a life of love and family. Living each day the same as the last. Teddy looked up at the clock to see that it was almost seven o’clock, and he was growing tired. The man in the parking lot was right; Teddy and him both were just waiting for their time. Waiting.