Rest In Peace, Little Dude
From today, my little Buddy lives only in my heart.
We were together for ten years. He saw me through good times and bad. He wasn’t a cuddler, but he always wanted to be near me. Wherever I settled — in the house, in the studio, on the patio — he’d watch me for a few minutes, then mosey over and lie down a few feet away. In time, I wanted to be near him, too, and I welcomed his gentle presence at my feet, or on the coffee table in front of me, or squeezing himself into a tiny space on my desk as I typed.
But he developed a mysterious condition around his eye, causing it to bulge. Two veterinarians were unable to pinpoint exactly what it was, but it was most likely a tumor. Neither doctor gave us much hope. There was talk of MRIs, CAT-scans, and surgery to remove the eye. Everything cost a lot, and nothing was certain to fix him. I watched helplessly while the condition grew to the point where he and I and Mrs. Jones couldn’t stand it anymore.
I’m not embarrassed to say that I cried. Now I’m wondering when I will stop checking at the back screen door to see if he’s waiting there for me to let him in.
PS: Here’s the story of Buddy, from back in the days when he was called “Tigger.” Shortly after the story was posted, he became Buddy and moved in with us.