Buddy Whigham

He was my sweet dog, but only for a minute it seemed. See, I already had a dog, and the relationship that I established with her was one riddled with stubborn compromise. A self-proclaimed horse person, I was never one to succomb to the heart-wrenching stares from kitties and pupperoos longing to find their human counterparts. As much as I loved them all, pet ownership seemed too daunting a task for someone with such a busy life. Still I fell for a beautiful Doberman who was rejected not once, not twice, but thrice for a slight jaw deformity which was frowned upon according to breed standards. What she lacked in physical perfection, she more than made up for in personality! Her loving demeanor was enough to make me cave in and allow her to warm the barren sofa cushions of our living room. What followed were months of locking horns over everything from how long throwing the ball should last to who gets to wrap their body in my favorite furry blanket. Just a hint, it was never me. Our entire family effortlessly grew to love her and vowed to never upstage her by adopting another pet.

Enter Buddy Whigham… It was a typical overcast day spent playing yet another never-ending game of throw the ball, until our attention was stolen by what we presumed to be a female stray ready to burst into motherhood at any moment! My heart sank in despair as I watched her desperately chase an SUV that drove away hastily leaving her far behind. With an apparent thunderstorm looming, my daughters fashioned a makeshift birthing bed from a small kiddie pool covered with soft blankets and food. It took half an hour, lots of broken off pieces of bacon, and begging to lure her near with no success at capture.

As we sat patiently waiting for another opportunity to sweet talk her out of the elements, we spotted her delicate gaze press up against the glass of our front door. I cautiously created a small opening to welcome her inside the house and I’m doing so, I was knocked unsteady and pummeled onto the foyer floor. What a brute! She appeared unphased as she met snout to snout with our boisterous Doberman, wasting no time to lay claim to her very own spot on the doggy bed. Surprisingly, our sweet girl, Sora, welcomed this unruly stranger with the accommodations of a five star hotel.

This night was full of more surprises! Our female guest was not embracing motherhood at all, but instead “she” was a “he” fostering a lifestyle that involved one doggy treat too many! This poboy with legs marched right into our home, stole our dog’s bed, and stole the hearts of every person within reach. Up and down the street, he earned a reputation for his kindness to the children, his ruthless mercy for flip flops, and his captivating upside down smile. Yes, he wore a down turned frown which expressed visual disapproval of anything and everything, and his tiny legs barely supported his large, oversized belly that paved the driveway and flattened the grass. And unlike his taller counterparts, he squatted to use the restroom, hence our obvious confusion when we first laid eyes on his voluptuous physique.

Buddy Whigham would become his name, but it would prove to be only temporary while we attempted to find him better accommodations. Days turned into weeks, and Buddy became a household name with the neighbors, the groomer, and the coffee shop. Weeks turned into months, and I found myself evolving into a full-fledged dog mom. Watching him playfully fight back as our Doberman rolled his body helplessly around the floor was our source of laughter for hours. Cuddle time was the favorite time of day, one my family and I would draw straws for the privilege of sharing with him. My indifferent facade was never a match for a grumpy-faced dog wearing footed pajamas.

Yet another month went by, and Buddy had effectively secured his spot within our family. He truly felt like the missing piece we never knew was missing. That is until one bittersweet afternoon, as he played ball with his newfound best friend, our companionship came to an unsuspecting end. Out in the neighboring field, a woman was desperately calling out “Bentley! Bentley!” Without a moment of hesitation, Buddy found the only breach in the fence, and forcefully squeezed his small body through. He ran to the woman whose relief was immediate and palpable. As I walked over to speak with her, I found my arms shaking and my feet heavy as they carried me along. The woman, Mary, proceeded to tell me the details of her long search to find Buddy. She lived quite a ways from our home, but a tip led her to our street where the SUV was spotted abandoning her sweet boy. Of course, I had an unprepared inquisition of my own, as I was not ready to hand over a member of my family just because. Yet his attraction to this lady was undeniable, and at this point in our conversation, Buddy was sitting in the driver seat of her car. He probably drove her home. Buddy was the most capable and independent animal I’ve ever come across. His loyalty to her was unmatched, which made absolute sense as she explained to me that he was her therapy dog. They found themselves apart when she was admitted to the hospital for a series of cancer treatments.

I lost one of my best friends that day, but I gained a new one in this kind woman. Buddy, better known as Bentley, will always hold a place in our hearts. He taught me the limits of my patience were far and wide, and this heart and house of mine has plenty of room for more. It was a lesson that I needed to learn. Buddy Whigham is a healer. He was all the therapy I could have ever asked for, and his boops will forever be missed. But his work here was done, and he had to continue his work of giving. Because that’s what dogs do… They give and give and give some more. Did I ever replace him? Buddy Whigham could never be replaced, however the search does continue, for this house has a vacant spot just begging to be filled with more tail wags, niff niff’s and footed pajamas.