Ode to My Friend Buddy

I’m a dog person. But not really. I’ve never had a dog of my very own.

Dogs remained in the shadows of my life for over four decades, sometimes showing up wagging tails and sniffing for treats, a few kissing hands and face, some hung at my feet, but always belonging to somebody else.

A few weeks ago, my friend and neighbor Elaine approached me with a proposition: she asked if I'd be interested in sharing dog-sitting duties for Buddy, her six-year old Shih Tzu, with another neighbor and friend (Roberta) while she and her husband vacationed in Florida for a few weeks. Even though she knew about my recent experiences with dogs, she still reached out to me.

A History of Saying Hello and Goodbye

I shared about Bo and Izzy in the previous article -suffice to say this was the big opportunity for me to bond with a dog on my own. My husband Carl was going to be out of town so it was just Buddy and I to fend for ourselves.

Of course I was thrilled to say yes, even though my part would only be over a long weekend. Nevertheless it was my first real dog sitting opportunity, and I couldn’t wait.

Elaine had Roberta and I over for tea and cookies one afternoon to talk about Buddy’s care and routine. Elaine presented written instructions and an overnight bag filled with toys, his blanket, food, bowls, shampoo, meds, and his bed.

Roberta’s dog Snowy, and Elaine’s Buddy were best friends, so plenty of interaction and play dates between the two dogs and their parents. I was outside woman coming in.

Image: Courtesy of Roberta Buddy and his best friend Snowy

---

The neighborhood

An HOA controls our 55+ community. The neighborhood isn’t strict per se, but we do have a board that likes to stay hands-on and up our asses when they feel so compelled.

One year, the overzealous HOA mandated cutting down most of the beautiful pine trees. The trees annoyed the landscapers who came through with oversized mowers to manicure the grass in summers. Some trees they considered dead, but after the removal was finished, it was hard to determine if they did it for safety reasons (as they touted) or for convenience.

One of the healthy trees that was cut down blocked the main street view from my kitchen window. That pine served as a perch where cardinals, finches, bluebirds, and even a hawk or two would often stop by to say hi as they passed through.

After the tree was removed, my view opened up to cars, bicyclists, and dog walkers.

Typical Michigan day from my kitchen window

Our neighborhood comes with its limitations. We lack open spaces for dogs to roam freely, no fenced backyards, and we must navigate three flights of stairs daily. These factors make it challenging to accommodate the needs of larger dogs. We have plenty of smaller dogs residing but only one large one, an Air Dale named Roxy, and a moyan Berne Doodle named Gunner.

Roxy and Gunner

In our neighborhood, dogs aren't permitted to wander off-leash. Instead, they amble up and down the street with their owners, who often take leisurely strolls or pause to chat with each other. It's amusing to watch because, at times, it's unclear who's leading whom.

Dog-sitting gamble

On a random Thursday afternoon, just a few days after my birthday celebration, when Buddy came for his planned three-night stay. His appearance felt like a belated birthday treat as he hopped up the front steps, exploring his new temporary surroundings. I quickly arranged his food and water bowls in the kitchen and positioned his bed close to ours, to make him feel at home. As I scattered his toys and blanket around the living room, it was clear to Buddy that this space was his.

Removing his harness, leash, and wool coat, I settled down on the floor beside him for some human time. Yet, as I leaned in to give him a friendly kiss on the head, a disgusting stench caught me off guard.

It wasn't the usual smell of doggy hair or the result of a playful romp in turkey poop; whatever it was, Buddy was in dire need of a bath. The only problem? I had no clue how to give him one. I knew enough to get him into the tub, but what came next? Do I douse him in shampoo? Scrub vigorously or go easy?

Buddy waiting for me to decide what to do.

In a moment of desperation, I reached out to my neighbor MB, my trusted friend who owned a Shi-poo named Dolly. Though I was still on probation for exciting Dolly a bit too much during our greetings, Dolly and I were still closely connected. Despite her occasional accidents, Dolly's energy brought me pure joy, and I didn’t care if she piddled on my shoes or not, her attention to me was always a highlight of my day.

I sent off a quick text seeking guidance on the art of dog bathing, hoping MB could shed some light on the situation.

MB came over immediately, without Dolly, and she assisted me in getting Buddy soaked and scrubbed in the tub. Judging by the expression in his eyes, Buddy was clearly irritated with me, but he didn’t bark, whine, or bite, so we managed to get through the bath. Afterwards, I gave him a thorough towel dry and a bit of blow drying, and he smelled as good as new.

---

After feeding him his dinner and giving him his medicine, I remembered what Elaine said about him usually needing to go out 15 to 30 minutes after eating. We had a few big accidents in the house with the other dogs during their previous short stays, so this time I kept a close eye on the clock and watched for any signs.

I set a timer and patiently waited for it to go off so I could open the garage door. It's a bit of a hassle in this condo because the front door is hidden by bushes and faces the neighbor, making it inconvenient for quick bathroom breaks.

One good thing is that our condo layout is similar to his own home, so it's a routine he's familiar with, I figured.

Now, it was just a waiting game: poop, pee, both, or nothing.

We hardly ever use the front door except for deliveries or when a few close friends (only three) or a couple of family members visit. And since I'm still lacking furniture, I don't really invite people over much.

---

As he started pacing near the door, I hurried to grab his harness, wool coat, and leash. Wrestling to get the harness on, I struggled to maneuver his paws into the leg openings before finally securing the leash and heading out for our inaugural walk.

Buddy in his coat that I decided he didn’t need, too cumbersome for him to trot freely (not to mention I was spastic trying to dress him for our walks)

For 20 minutes, we sauntered, meandered, and sniffed around with no luck.

Upon returning inside, I removed all his gear, only for him to return to the door and sit there 30 minutes later, signaling the need for another outing.

Repeat routine: I threw on my coat, and off we went once more.

After another 20-minute stroll, he found a spot by the mailboxes near the woods and began circling.

Then, success—he squatted and did his business.

It was a first in my experience with three dogs; finally, someone managed to avoid an accident indoors and did their business right on schedule—and conveniently close to the woods, sparing me the hassle of cleanup.

This visit was shaping up to be a breeze, with a dog who knew how to communicate with me.

When all goes sideways

We hit the hay around 9:30, me diving into Six Feet Under binge session while Buddy cozied up in his bed beside me, already drifting off into dreamland. However, he had different plans for his sleeping arrangements. When he attempted to hop up onto the bed but found it too tall, I had to lift him up so we could settle in for the night together. Eventually, we called it a night around midnight, feeling content with our cozy setup.

Suddenly, at 2:30 am, a gurgling sound woke me up. Buddy was panting heavily and pacing back and forth on the bed. It took me a moment to flick on the light, but by then, it was too late. Buddy had already expelled a stream of pumpkin and undigested food pellets all over the comforter.

Buddy was sick.

My initial assumption was that he might be feeling anxious without Elaine around. However, he didn't appear stressed—yet he was drooling and continued to vomit bile even after emptying his stomach of all the food.

Buddy, very sick—but still eager to please

---

I tried everything—I gave him soft food, yogurt, even a bit of pumpkin, but he kept throwing up every time. Despite this, he was still drinking water and showing his usual spunky personality. He made it clear when he needed to go outside to do his business, but at some point during the day, he started signaling that he only needed to pee, not go for a walk, which meant no need for his harness and leash. By then, I figured Buddy was fine without his bulky wool sweater every time he went out the front door.

Come Saturday morning, I was certain Buddy needed to see a vet; this wasn't just a normal upset stomach.

Elaine gave me permission to see an Emergency vet.

Photo by MARK ADRIANE on Unsplash

"Why does this always happen on my watch?" I thought to myself, recalling the time Pard, the Bernese Mountain dog, swallowed a gardening glove and needed surgery, or when his brother Magnum gobbled up my glasses whole.

After a lot of logistical wrangling (it's never easy in the middle of nowhere), we managed to locate a clinic that was open and able to see us.

I won’t delve into the specifics, but the vet treated Buddy for dehydration and nausea. She advised against giving him any more pumpkin, yogurt, or dry food, and instead recommended replacing these with chicken and rice.

We made it back from the vet, and the rest of the day was spent indulging in chicken and rice and more Six Feet Under. In the back of my mind, I kept praying Buddy wouldn’t take a turn for the worse on my watch, but thankfully, the night passed without any incidents.

We both slept in on Sunday, feeling fully refreshed. When Buddy stood at the top of the stairs—a new signal for wanting a walk, not just a quick bathroom break—I realized he was running the show. I learned that no matter how easy a dog might seem to care for, things could always go sideways and throw off the schedule. It was like looking after a kid. My respect for those who juggled kids and dogs soared.

I was starting to rethink this whole idea of getting my own dog.

We left the garage and started off on a brisk trot down the street, with Buddy leading the way. He guided us straight to Snowy’s front door, which was a little over a quarter mile down the street.

Part of me felt thrilled that Buddy was back to his usual self and able to trot (he hadn’t done so since he was with me), but another part felt guilty, thinking he might prefer staying at Roberta’s house rather than mine.

I worried that I wasn't being a good dog mom.

Unfortunately, Snowy was away for the weekend, which I tried to explain to Buddy. "Snowy is gone, Buddy. He isn’t here. Come on, let’s go back home," I pleaded. But Buddy stubbornly sat down in the driveway and refused to budge.

Finally, he seemed to understand, and as I waited for him to make a decision, to my surprise, Gunner, the Moyen Berne Doodle, showed up on his stroll around the neighborhood.

“We’d better not let them get too close. Elaine tries to keep Buddy away; Gunner can get kind of frisky,” Karen, Gunner's owner, warned from a distance.

“I think we should let them meet properly,” I suggested. So, I grabbed a couple of sticks and allowed them to approach each other to sniff and check things out. To my relief, Gunner didn’t get defensive, and Buddy held his ground. I handed them both sticks, and they sat down together, happily chewing away, just being dogs.

We took the next couple hours and leisurely strolled the neighborhood his nose to the ground, as I stayed in my own zone, feeling the breeze in my hair, the sunshine warming my skin, and enjoying every moment of our little outdoor wandering together.

Sniffing can also be very calming for dogs. A meandering, sniff session on a long-leash can release the mood-boosting chemical in their brain called dopamine. It’s a lot like a yoga or meditation session for your pup.—Dog’s Trust

From the pure joy found in his energetic trot to Snowy's house to the challenge of nursing him back to health, dog sitting taught me some valuable lessons.

Resilience

Despite Buddy's illness, he bounced back with determination, reminding me of the power of perseverance. His wagging tail and playful antics in the face of adversity were a testament to the resilience we all hope to possess.

Patience

Whether it was waiting for him to finish his business, cleaning up messes, or worrying about his health, dog sitting required a lot of time and patience. Through this, I learned to stay calm and do the next best thing, even in the most stressful situations.

Lastly, the importance of living in the moment

Watching Buddy enjoy in the simple pleasures of life—a stick to chew on, a breeze to sniff, turkey poop to roll in, or playing with his toys—taught me to cherish each moment and find joy in the little things.

Saying goodbye to Buddy, I couldn't help but remember the challenges and cherished memories we shared together. Dog-sitting not only pushed my comfort zone but also warmed my heart with love and fur baby life lessons. Buddy strengthened my desire to find and have a dog in my life.

Postscript: Buddy died in Elaine’s arms on Friday, March 15, 2024 - RIP my furry friend.

My friend Buddy. Image Courtesy of: Dennis and Elaine