Tuesday, March 2, 2010


Buddy.  The Wonder Dog

By (C) Joe Heidelmeier 2010

Photo "Buddy" (C) Karen Alexander 2010

Karen, my bride, never even had a dog of her own. When we met, I had a beautiful Doberman named Gretchen and two cats. Karen loved them as if they were her own and, after a while finally, they all passed. Then I adopted a stray tomcat -- "Olok" -- (our little outside kitty), and a friend gave me a Blue Heeler pup, Sarita. Sarita loved Karen, and was fiercely protective of her. 

But Sarita was, well, MY dog. Not Karen’s.  We used to have access to a large deer lease ranch in South Texas.  Karen spent a lot of time there with me. One weekend, Karen and our friend Lori had gone to town for groceries. There was a gravel county road that bisected the ranch, and on the way in, they noticed something white by the side of the road in the shade of a quisatche bush. It was a dog.  It was a half-grown terrier-mix pup. Karen and Lori came to the camp and told me about this little dog.

I said "go ahead back and get it."   Meaning, go back and get the dog, the stray.  When they got back, the poor dog was covered with fleas and fire ant bites. About all we had for him to eat was some canned cat food, cheese and some bread. He was starving.

We let him sleep on a mat in the trailer with us. He was timid, and obviously had been mistreated and thrown away on this rural road.  We all know something about being thrown away.

We had to take a day trip the next morning, and I told Karen "if he is here when we get back, we'll take him home."

Eight hours later, there he was, standing there waiting for us, sitting on the steps, his crooked little tail wagging.  Karen named him "Buddy".  And Buddy is HER dog.

Best dog I have ever known. Grateful, I suppose.

Karen's dog.


1 comment:

Karen said...

I always think it's interesting how memories differ! I wasn't with Lori... I was bringing groceries in from Houston on a Friday afternoon by myself, and for some reason, chose to take the "scenic" route - a dirt road coming in from the east rather than the usual, faster highway I usually travelled. Something white caught my eye under the low brushy, thorny quisatch, McGregor roses, and mesquite on the side of this remote dirt road - I thought it was perhaps a calf down or in distress, something to inform the rancher about perhaps. So, I stopped to take a look. The shy little pup jumped up, with that crooked tail wagging - though he did not approach the truck. I took note of his condition,he obviously had been without food for a while, and threw a couple of pieces of sandwich bread in his direction, and headed in to camp. There were already a number of people there, so I asked around to see if anyone was missing a pup... then Lori started teasing me that it would be cruel to leave the little dog there for the coyotes - though he looked like he'd already survived a few nights in the brush. Joe piped in and I succumbed and went back for the dog with Lori. He jumped right in the truck... still loves a ride. But also still HATES to get OUT of a truck! Lately he's fallen in love with tennis balls...but yes, I agree with Joe, he is MY dog... crawls into bed each night and sleeps neatly curled at my feet...he is eternally GRATEFUL.

- Karen