How many times can my heart break after losing a precious furbaby? Over and over and over. And each time feels like the first. But what those precious beings leave with me is another layer of unconditional love and acceptance for all my quirks and shortcomings as a guardian. They are why I’m an animal communicator with all the difficult lessons, and I hope wisdom, learned from experiencing the life and passing of yet another life into the realm of Spirit. The realm of Spirit. I will be met by all of them again. And the first one will be Buddy.

I’ve had the privilege of sharing this life with many precious dogs and cats that asked almost nothing from me, only to be fed and loved. And I remember each one like it was yesterday, not over a span of fifty years. Funny how I struggle to remember the good times when all the guilt and self-blaming pops up instead. Why couldn’t I always have known how to better feed them, or respond to their basic instincts without cross words? What in my makeup as a human ever gave me the right to treat them as anything but the gorgeous, elegant, noble creatures they are? Who am I to question the magnificence of creation of which we are all a part? Buddy is me. I am Buddy. We are both a part of the whole.

Animals that we bring into our home to live with us are only ‘below us’ in height which is why I look through their eyes to understand them better. Imagine living in a world of giants speaking words we mostly can’t comprehend, but can immediately feel the emotion those words carry with them. We would see a lot of legs and feet and wonder why everyone is angry with us all the time. Something as simple to humans as pulling a strip of packing tape off a roll could scare the bejesus out of us if we didn’t know anything about packing tape. (Buddy was especially frightened by the noise of packing tape.) Or placing our litter box near a stinky drain could repulse us enough to stop using the box altogether. (I witnessed this through a cat’s eyes once. He showed me a foul smell wafting by. This proved true when his guardian got close enough to the floor to smell it. Lol) And how confused would we be if the human we loved yelled because we couldn’t wait any longer to get her attention to let us out to potty? (I’m guilty. I’m guilty. I’m guilty! Confession doesn’t make me feel any better though.) It’s up to us as human guardians to interpret their simple language, the signs that seem so obvious after the fact. And to remember that most of what becomes a problem for animals is because animals often exhibit symptoms mirrored from their humans. In other words, before you yell at your animal, look inside yourself for the answer to their behavior. You can bet that’s where it’s coming from.

Buddy adopted us in late winter of 2014. He had been rescued on the coldest night of the year sitting in the middle of the road waiting as if he trusted that someone would come along and find him. And she did. A very kind and very pregnant woman named Micki scooped him up and took him home where he, being new to the pack, promptly lorded over the resident bulldog. She had her hands full with a new baby coming soon, so after exhausting all possibilities of finding the dog’s human(s) failed, she eventually found a woman who fostered chihuahua rescues. That person then reached Terry (we had already adopted another chi rescue). That’s how we came to hear about a sweet little chi mix who needed a home asap.

Our Jakie, rescued from a puppy mill several years before, had just passed, and my little longhair chihuahua shadow who wouldn’t eat when he first arrived unless I stood nearby, had left such a hole in my heart that I put my foot down. “No more dogs. Luke is enough!” Luke, a minpin/chihuahua mix, had been with us for four years and gave us enough love for several dogs. So I was firm…until I saw a photo of the sweet trusting face of Buddy. (Terry thought that all dogs had been called buddy at one time or another, so Buddy it was!) I melted like a triple scoop ice cream cone in 100 degree weather when he came around the corner of Micki’s sofa. Buddy chose us as his pack and I couldn’t say no. But Buddy made his preferred human choice very apparent almost immediately.

Buddy only relaxed his vigil when Terry was in the room. Of course, he never knew him as anyone but ‘Daddy.’ Grandma and Mommy often called out ‘Terry,’ but Buddy only payed attention when he heard ‘Daddy.’ He would raise up from his bed in the living room and watch Daddy’s every step from one room to the next. He wouldn’t move from his bed unless Daddy disappeared around the corner in the hallway, then he quickly followed making sure that he knew where his person was. He posed like a sentry in Grandma’s room waiting for his Daddy to exit the bathroom. It was almost like he held his breath until he saw the tall human sit down near him, or better yet, invited him onto his lap or in the giant dog bed that Daddy also slept in. It was Buddy’s job to keep tabs on Daddy.

His job was especially difficult when Daddy twice disappeared from the house for several weeks in 2018. Buddy never understood why he and Luke had to stay at Ashley and Jessica’s house. Neither dog knew about the brain surgery or first stroke that happened shortly after, but they did understand that Grandma and Mommy were exhausted and very worried about Daddy. And they knew better than Mommy did that they would be back in Daddy’s bed eventually. And boy! Were they happy when Ashley and Jessica brought them back home!

My sense was that Buddy heightened his vigilance after Terry came home each time from the hospital or in-patient rehabilitation in 2018. After Lukie passed in 2020, his job became even more important. And Buddy stepped up to the plate and filled the void with the biggest heart imaginable. I whispered to him minutes before he transitioned in our living room with everyone gathered round, “Wait for me. I will see you soon. Mommy loves you.”

Are you waiting for me, Buddy, tail wagging, twirling in the middle of the room? Yes. I know you are. For you are Mommy’s little boy!