Death is a curious thing. There are those who embrace it and those who fear it, but none understand exactly what it is or why it instills the feelings it does. All we understand is that it takes things we love away from us. For most, the fear of death comes not from death itself, but from what it entails. And for me, the fear comes not from death, but from the feeling of hopelessness it brings. There is no stopping it. Once death begins it's descent, nothing can hold it back. And it took me a great loss to not only understand the inevitability of death, but the concepts of unconditional love and inner calm. The loss of my beloved corgi Buddy has moved me to emotional levels I did not think were possible.
Buddy was a Pembroke Welsh Corgi, adopted from a cattle farm in Florida before I moved to my current residence. While a tad aggressive at times, he was kind and protective, loving and sweet. No matter how bad my day was, Buddy was always there with the same smile on his face. He took care of my mother while I was away for months at a time. He was her protector, and the family's guardian. Everyone loved Buddy, and Buddy loved everyone- but especially my mother. He would never leave her side.
A few months ago, I began to notice some strange differences in Buddy's behavior. He began angrily snapping and barking at nothing in particular. His demeanor changed from happy and loving to cautious and afraid.
It was two weeks later when his right hind leg stopped moving. A month passed and it became both hind legs. I had looked at the reports, studied the corgi biology, and had Buddy seen by a vet. He was diagnosed with a paralysis disorder unique to Pembroke corgis. His front legs would be the next to go, and eventually his entire body would be paralyzed.
We could keep him alive. Some drugs. an IV....it would be fine. But it wasn't Buddy. His eyes said more than words ever could. He was in pain. And he was ready to go. We scheduled an appointment for him to be put to sleep that week.
A few nights ago, my mom called me into her room. She informed me that his heart rate was quickening. I rushed into the room to see a slumped over Buddy with my mom crying over him. Buddy was alive, but still in pain. He was dragging his limp hind legs along the carpet. He walked over to me, and did something I will never forget: he placed his head in my arms and began to lick.
I'll always remember what happened with Buddy when I was younger. I made mistakes. I was cruel to the dog, if unintentionally so. What reason did he have to love me?
But there he was, licking my arms and face for what seemed like ages. I wondered what I had done to deserve this treatment from the dog, but realized something: Buddy didn't care. He loved me unconditionally. And for that, I will always be grateful.
Buddy is gone now. He passed away peacefully. But I'll never forget him. He taught me about love, friendship, and unrequited compassion. In a way, I learned more from him than any amount of writing could put into words. And so I offer my simple thanks.
My uncle believes that dead animals go to a special place, known as Rainbow Way. His cat is there. So is my dad's dog. And now my own beloved pet joins them in what is hopefully a happier place. And so I say goodbye to my long time friend, the one who was always there for me and loved me no matter what atrocities I committed.
Bye, old pal. You'll always be my best Buddy.
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