Remembering the Joyful Life of Buddy

Something unexpected happened yesterday. Our dear family dog, Buddy, an 11-year-old golden retriever, passed away suddenly.

Something unexpected happened yesterday. Our dear family dog, Buddy, an 11-year-old golden retriever, passed away suddenly. As I write this, the house feels empty because he filled it with love and joy; now that he’s gone, a measure of it is missing.

If you met Buddy, you know what a buddy he was. I know he was just a pet, but he was our family pet, and our kids grew up with him. We went through more than a decade with him. The year we adopted our youngest son, Asher, we wanted to start a new family experience that all five of us would have together.

Up to that point, the four of us had been our family, and Asher had missed out on all of it, so we wanted something meaningful for our newly minted family of five.

Buddy was the answer.

Colette, Asher, and I drove to the Mennonite farm when Asia and Rex were in school. We had intended to “just go and see,” but you know how that goes. The farm lady let the retriever puppies out of their pens, and they all meandered in different directions. But this one pup, this creamy, fluffy, delicious-looking pup, wandered over to us and plopped on Asher’s foot.

He knew exactly what he was doing, clever little pup. Four-year-old Asher exclaimed, “Hey Buddy!” and that was that. We went home with a dog and a name. We met Asia and Rex as they got off the school bus, and the family memories with Buddy began. We took Buddy everywhere.

Reflecting on the 11 years we had him, I see he was part of so many family moments. That’s what’s hard about saying goodbye. It’s not just saying goodbye to an animal; it’s saying goodbye to a member of the family who came along for so much of our family life together.

He loved to play at our cabin.

He loved to come along on hikes.

He was even friends with our cat and hamster.

One of my favorite things about going away on a trip was the warm reunion with Buddy at home. He would shake his hind end, wag his tail, and lay on the ground so you’d lay right down next to him, and he’d lick and wail with joy at the return. I’m really going to miss those sloppy reunions.

Buddy became a friend to residents at a nursing home. Colette would take Buddy there, and the staff would let Buddy roam the halls because he was so calm. Residents would smile, and Buddy would walk up slowly and offer his head for them to pat. They would open up about their lives, linger among pleasant memories, and tell stories of their past dogs. For some of the residents, Buddy was their only visitor all day.

But Buddy wasn’t all charms and cuddles. He was an animal and had a wild side. Once, Colette was walking Buddy, and he was off his leash. Buddy spotted a deer and started chasing it. The deer ran into the lake, and Buddy followed it. With nowhere to escape, the deer ran out of energy and succumbed. Colette reported the incident to the park rangers, and they responded with a court summons and fine for destroying state property. Alas, I thought Pennsylvania had too many deer.

But I don’t regret him doing that; what a stud golden retriever.

When we moved from Pennsylvania to Virginia, Buddy was my driving buddy. We started a new chapter, and he was a faithful companion right in the middle of it.

When we vacationed with my brother’s family, their son was diagnosed with leukemia. In the haze of disbelief and grief, Buddy brought his cream-colored and silky-coated comfort to the mess. They say he made it a little bit easier.

A few months after moving, we decided to change the shape of the family again, so we added a mini dachshund. This time, Rex named him “Hopper.” Buddy didn’t know what he was in for. What was this squirrely little thing?

Hopper chewed Buddy’s ears, chased his tail, and stole his toys, but Buddy didn’t sweat. He was famously longsuffering, utterly patient, and patently calm as Hopper nagged and antagonized Buddy like it was a sport. Clods of hair went missing, and Hopper’s chewing often soaked Buddy’s ears. But it didn’t faze Buddy. It was like he knew what Hopper needed.

Over time, they became the best of friends, inseparable, really. We would come into a room, and they would be lying together. Before, Buddy would follow us around the house, but with Hopper, he would feel content without us. Together, they were never alone. They made each other never alone. What an excellent service to do for one another.

Now, Buddy is gone from our lives. Life changes in an instant and you have to deal with it. Thankfully, Colette and Rex were home when Buddy collapsed and they spent his last moments together. Within an hour, Asia, Asher, and I assembled at home, and we sat around Buddy sharing memories and prayers together. We all cried not only at the loss of our friend but at the closure of a season.

I don’t know what Hopper will do now. He seems lost and disoriented, wondering where his Buddy is, and it breaks my heart that Buddy won’t return. Hopper doesn’t understand this yet.

But I do know what we will do. We will hurt, we will cry, and we will miss our dear Buddy. We will miss our hikes and reunions and how he comforted friends and strangers so much that those who didn’t know his name would greet him with “Buddy.” We will miss how he helped us to feel like we were not alone.

But we will also celebrate the memories that filled our family with joy, love, and comfort. We will feel grateful that our kids grew up with such an extraordinary dog. And we will thank God that he blessed us with a dog who broke our hearts when he was gone, which shows how special a dog he was.

Goodbye, Buddy Fluffernutter Snoopy Wolf Heinz.