BajaNomad

I lost a good friend today

lizard lips - 7-8-2005 at 09:05 PM

This morning at 5:30 I went outside and found my 10 year old Golden Retriver who weighed about 110 pounds lying next to the door of the garage not moving. After calling him a few times, and he did'nt come I checked him and found he was dead.

His name was Buddy and he really was my best friend. The last few months were pretty tough on him. His health was declining rapidly. I took him to the vet in Ensenada last Monday and the Doc took out his spleen which was covered in tumors. I brought him home on Wednesday and thought maybe I could have him around for maybe another year but it was just his time to go.

I found him in the street in Santa Ana about 9 years ago with a broken leg, I think he was hit by a car. I took him to Baja and he remained with me and my wife and protected our home as well as being a constant companion. He was a great dog!

Im writing this because I always find if I put it down in y own words, if something is bothering me, I can take a deep breath without getting the frog in my throat. It really gets rid of some of the pain.

I dont think Ill ever find another dog that even comes close to Buddy. Ill really miss him-

I am so sorry my friend

jrbaja - 7-8-2005 at 09:11 PM

You were very fortunate to have a "companion" like that in your lives. We have also had to deal with this tragedy beore our two current canines.
But, although you will never find another dog like your Buddy, another wonderful critter will probably find you and fill in a tragic void!
And something tells me that Buddy had a pretty good life with you coming from the streets of Santa Ana.
Very sorry.

Gypsy Jan - 7-8-2005 at 09:16 PM

Please accept my sincere condolences for your loss.

Things happen that remind me of the ones that have gone before me.

I really hope that they will greet me later and I wish that for you.

Diver - 7-8-2005 at 09:23 PM

Very, very sorry for your loss.

Debra - 7-8-2005 at 09:26 PM

So sorry for your loss.....I too know how much it hurts.

Diver - 7-8-2005 at 09:35 PM

My yellow lab Stryder passed in the early '80's. He had been my amazing friend for 12 years. I never thought I would have another bud like him.
I even shied away from connecting with other dogs for a few years.

Now I have Zeke.
Zeke is the coolest, the handsomest, the most mellow yellow.....
He is not Stryder, but I am not what I was in the eighty's.
Zeke is now almost 8 and starting to show signs that remind me he won't be with me forever. I need to lay on the grass in the sun with him more often.

I hope you can find your Zeke soon.
Best wishes !

Marie-Rose - 7-8-2005 at 09:37 PM

Thank you for sharing your pain, It just makes one so thankful for having the wonderful love and friendship of a dog. I know that your memories will bring a smile to face soon. What a lucky dog to have had a good friend!!!

rpleger - 7-8-2005 at 10:05 PM

I am so very sorry about Buddie.

I have always had a dog or two and I know, nothing hurts more than the loss of a friend.

Again, I am so sorry.

DanO - 7-8-2005 at 11:43 PM

Lips, my condolences. It's funny, you go for years not thinking about it, and then something like this triggers that memory. When my mom took Juno, the german shepard I was raised with, away to put her out of her pain, I cried for a week. I loved that dog. Haven't had one since. 35 years.

Here's to you Juno and Buddie. Hope you're both chasing squirrels in dog heaven.

True friends they are

Sharksbaja - 7-9-2005 at 12:45 AM

Quote:
Originally posted by Marie-Rose
Thank you for sharing your pain, It just makes one so thankful for having the wonderful love and friendship of a dog. I know that your memories will bring a smile to face soon. What a lucky dog to have had a good friend!!!



I feel bad for you. One of our blind customers has dinner at our place with her Golden. VERY sweet animals and fantastic with children. I am sure your memories are many.

A dog owner can measure his past with memories shared with his companions through lifes course. I too have been deprived of that special bonding many times. I always think ...."no more dogs, no more pain". This can't work because the joys far outwiegh the end. My/our thoughts then turn to finding and giving an animal a good life. We have always had dogs. Below is "Klondike" our last beloved dog, short-changed in life but was brave to the end. The next two pics are of "Buzz" ("Zumbido") a dog we found in the newspaper. This dog is a wonder. He knows more than 20 tricks and other commands. He loves people TOO much and will be your instant friend(especially kids & women). Half Border Collie and half Samoyed he has this passion for pulling on ropes. He just has a little too much dogosterone tho and likes to roam. We like em a lot however!



rest in peace



Osprey - 7-9-2005 at 06:31 AM

Lips, I share your pain. I share your love for dogs. Here's a story about a dear friend lost to me.
Amanecer




This morning, "punto a la amanecer", just at dawn, Sam woke me again with his barking. He chased two or three trucks headed for the beach. Sam, my Campo Spaniel dog, glistening black, short, powerful and vocal, began to chase certain cars and trucks when still a puppy. The method is simple and deadly -- a headlong rush at the offending vehicle's front tires, barking and biting, bristling with sheer rage, uninterrupted until the car/truck/tractor has outrun the attack, stopped or become, most suddenly, a non-aggressor.

Although I have paid particular attention, I have been unable to determine just what color, sound, shape or odor the vehicles have that initiate the chase. VW's seem to have the edge on manufacturer while one-ton box trucks with no noticeable mufflers draw more attacks, as a rule, than quiet sedans---but not always.

We have a block wall around my house which keeps our other, less exuberant dog, Jake, safely at home. He seems happy inside this gray fortress and only occasionally whimpers at the prospect of freedom. Sam leaps the wall at will and has the run of the village.
His unfastened vigor holds me, shames me. Reminds me that I did not dare enough -- when I took from life's cup it was nearly always in cautious sips, not in head-back, eyes-up giant gulps. His leaps into my willing arms flood my senses with his wet, shaggy body, smelling of dead leaves and original dirt. For as long as I have marveled at the inexpressible joy and rapture of his unbounded freedom to run on the beach, alongside my fisherman neighbors, is as long as I have known this freedom would, one fateful day, be his undoing.

I cannot bridle this free spirit to save his life. The rope, tied to his new collar that would save him from the crushing death of grinding metal and rubber, would just as surely hang him by the same small neck, reducing life to the unthinkable prison of sameness, boredom and disuse of spirit -- hobble all the quarter horses at Ruidoso Downs the day before the race because "they might get hurt" sings the same tune.

So if I can't stop him from chasing the cars that will some day kill him, what am I to do? Worry. Well, I have not been very good at the worrying game... it?s not what I do best. No, it?s better that I prepare myself for the shock of his (always untimely) death. That's what I do...when I don't see him for an hour or two, I begin to imagine that he has been mangled beneath the wheels of a car or truck and is hurt or dead, maybe just a block or two away. I prepare myself for this grisly visage and hope for the best.

This is not an easy, happy-go-lucky, exercise. My deepest feelings for Sam rush to the surface, begging, that if, around the next corner, he suddenly appears, unharmed, I can take him inside me, hold him there forever and cherish just the sight of him, tongue lolling, rushing to meet me.

The pain of this regime deepens because I feel, each day he lives, I use up a little of his remaining companionship, as though it could be measured, weighed and apportioned. Is this some kind of lesson? Should I be cherishing, ever so much more, all the people and things around me because they are so fragile and temporary? Nope. This is not a lesson. There are no lessons to be learned here. Not here. Each thing will be loved, adored and protected or it will not.

As for Sam, I take, day by day, in equal measure, credit for the continued freedom that is his wondrous life and full blame for his death, some future, less forgiving sunrise will expose.

bajajudy - 7-9-2005 at 06:38 AM

I am right there with you.

When we lost Toby(14) we already had Mochi and that really helped.

When you find another dog, you will find that they have something different and as special as Buddy. I never thought any dog could take Toby's place. She was half black lab and half bassett hound....we call her a black bassadore.

We found Eta on the side of the road tied to her sister by their back legs and Eta is the most special dog I have ever had.

Hope that Buddy and Toby enjoy each others company.

[Edited on 7-9-2005 by bajajudy]

I feel your pain,

Keri - 7-9-2005 at 07:18 AM

so very sorry. Our pets are like our children. I know it's a terrible loss. Thanks for sharing your love for your friend with us. Hope you are able to share your love with a new friend soon,k

bajaruby - 7-9-2005 at 08:22 AM

very sorry for your loss. I also have a Buddy, but I think it will be BB that I lose soon, as he has cancer. We will always miss them, but look forward to the time when we will all meet again.:(

My condolences lips

Ken Bondy - 7-9-2005 at 09:19 AM

It is truly amazing how attached you get to them. I know how you feel about writing things down. It eases the pain for me too. Here's something I wrote on an airplane a few years ago immediately after I found out that our bulldog Rosie was diagnosed with a particularly virulent form of cancer:

______________________________________________
Goodbye Rosie

I cannot bear to think that our time together is soon coming to an end, sweet Rose. You have been such a wonderful, special part of our lives in your short five years. You deserved much more time; the world so desperately needs truly good and unselfish spirits like yours, regardless of species. What a dirty trick life plays on us by letting us become so attached to precious animals like you, and then snuffing out your lives so quickly.

I will never, ever forget you. Physically you were so poorly designed, and that made life constantly tough for you. Just the act of walking, climbing stairs, jumping up to sit on your beloved Mom?s lap, even breathing, was difficult for you. But you never knew you weren?t quite like other dogs, you never let it affect your spirit, your good nature, or your love for life and for your Mom and Dad. Few humans could endure the fundamental problems you did every day, and still be as loving, gentle, and full of life as you were, every day of yours. Some recoiled at your mooshed-in little face; I thought it was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen.

There are so many memories of you I will carry with me until the day I too sleep forever. The first days at Oxnard, when I could actually hold your warm, trembling little body on my shoulder; how you got to love the beach and the (ever shorter) walks, how you lost fear of grass, twigs, and dirt clods and eventually mastered and dominated each of them. I treasure how you would greet me when I came home; each time just as eagerly as the last no matter how long I was gone. I loved all of your strange noises; they became part of our lives. I particularly used to love watching you come out on the deck with me during my cigar smokes on warm summer nights. How awkward it was for you to stretch out and lie down on the hard deck next to me. Nonetheless you did it because, I think, you just wanted to be near me, and perhaps protect me from all the night creatures out there, for a little while. And who could forget how you would do your rollovers when your Mom brought out the HandiWipes? That, the beach, walks, going to bed with us, were your favorite things. I?m so glad you got to do them, even if it wasn?t for very long.

Sleep well and breathe easy for once, my beautiful little bulldog. Maybe we will be together again sometime. If that?s not the way it works, please know that I loved you dearly and I always will, and I am honored that you loved me too.

++Dad++
___________________________________________

She died about a month after I wrote that. There will never be another Rosie for us, just like there will never be another Buddy for you, but life does go on, and I am sure, from how you write, that there will be another loving dog in your life. After Rosie had been gone for about a year we simply had to have another furbag in our lives, and another beautiful little Bulldog named Daisy entered our lives. We love her dearly, and, after time passes for awhile, I know you too will find another one to fill that void.

______________________________________
There is a Place

That we call memory?

A province by itself

Which, though unseen, is home

And heaven to the heart?

And there,

In peace and beauty waiting,

Are those with whom we shared our yesterdays?

____________________________________________



++Ken++

[Edited on 7-9-2005 by Ken Bondy]

[Edited on 7-9-2005 by Ken Bondy]

Eli - 7-9-2005 at 02:20 PM

Lizard Lips, I feel for you this day.

Saying goodbye to a best friend is the hardest thing to deal with in the end.
Even though you know he must go, and there will be no more pain for him. For sure if you love a dog like we do, they are with you in your heart all the way to your end. Still, loosing such a good friend is beyond belief painful, at least for a while. Hopefully sooner instead of later the memories of your Buddy will come back as smiles.

My Ol Goldie dog runs thru my minds eye all the time, so proud with that jack rabbit in her mouth that she finally caught, she was getting up there in years then, man she was happy that day, her meta de anos accomplished, for sure I think it was the best day of her life.

Yep, memories I always carry with me include; A Sweet little Dotty Dog. La Brindle, who thought she was a cat. El Cid, a valiant friend to the end. Miss Goldie, boy she was so smart. The Loyal VOS, the most grateful to be alive critter that ever walked this plant. And finally La Shaggy, I could never keep her in, I knew someday her running around would be her demise, and it did. Now those loyal companions just live in my heart, good sweet souls everyone of um, my best friends.

Ken Bondy - 7-9-2005 at 03:13 PM

I think one of the most unfair of all the tricks life plays on us is that terrible mathematical inequality:

1 human year = 7 doggie years

The math should have been worked out more carefully.

++Ken++

lizard lips - 7-9-2005 at 08:05 PM

Wow, all of you are soo nice to respond. I now know Im not the only person out there that has been through something like this and your kind words have really helped.

I forgot to mention that I buried Buddy in my garden and plan to plant a special rose bush there to remember him every time I see it. It wont be the first rose bush in the garden but it will be the best.

When it's my time to go I sure hope we will meet again and take another walk on the beach together!

bajajudy - 7-10-2005 at 07:11 AM

We planted a gardenia on top of Toby and it really flourished. I still go out there and talk to her sometimes.

Bajagato - 7-10-2005 at 08:10 AM

well its only 8:07 in beautiful Laguna Hills, haven't even had my coffee yet, and the tears run down my face. Lips, I am very sorry for your loss. I know in time, you'll find another very special doggie to share your love with. It is a shame they can not stay with us longer, but the time they are here, is such pure joy. Thanks for sharing all your pooch stories, Nomads, I needed a good cry. Have a great Sunday!

Anonymous - 7-10-2005 at 08:42 AM

They are put here for a reason.

Anonymous - 7-10-2005 at 08:45 AM

We always cherish the memories....rest in peace, old gal.

JESSE - 7-10-2005 at 09:29 AM

So sorry to hear about your loss lizard, specially a golden, you know they are special.

I will name of my famous sangrias "buddy" sangria in his honor today.

Neal Johns - 7-10-2005 at 10:50 AM

This says it all:

A man and his dog were walking along a road. The man was enjoying the scenery, when it suddenly occurred to him that he was dead.

He remembered dying, and that the dog walking beside him had been dead for years.

He wondered where the road was leading them.

After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of the road. It looked like fine marble. At the top of a long hill it was broken by a tall arch that glowed in the sunlight. When he was standing before it he saw a magnificent gate in the arch that looked like Mother of Pearl, and the street that led to the gate looked like pure gold.

He and the dog walked toward the gate, and as he got closer, he saw a man at a desk to one side. When he was close enough, he called out,

"Excuse me, where are we?"

"This is Heaven, sir," the man answered.

"Wow! Would you happen to have some water?" the man asked.

"Of course, sir. Come right in, and I'll have some ice water brought right up." The man gestured, and the gate began to open.

"Can my friend," gesturing toward his dog, "come in, too?" the traveller asked.

"I'm sorry, sir! , but we don't accept pets."

The man thought a moment and then turned back toward the road and continued the way he had been going with his dog.




After another long walk, and at the top of another long hill, he came to a dirt road which led through a farm gate that looked as if it had never been closed.


There was no fence. As he approached the gate, he saw a man inside, leaning against a tree and reading a book.

"Excuse me!" he called to the reader. "Do you have any water?"

"Yeah, sure, there's a pump over there". The man pointed to a place that couldn't be seen from outside the gate. "Come on in."

"How about my friend here?" the traveller gestured to the dog.

"There should be a bowl by the pump." They went
through the gate, and sure enough, there was an old fashioned hand pump with a bowl beside it.

The traveller filled the bowl and took a long drink
himself, then he gave some to the dog. When they were full, he and the dog walked back toward the man who was standing by the tree waiting for them.

"What do you call this place?" the traveller asked.

"This is Heaven," he answered.

"Well, that's confusing," the traveller said. "The man down the road said that was Heaven, too."

"Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and
pearly gates? Nope. That's Hell."

"Doesn't it make you mad for them to use your name like that?"

"No. I can see how you might think so, but we're just happy that they screen out the folks who'll leave their best friends behind."

Keri - 7-10-2005 at 02:24 PM

Fantastic Neal. Thanks for sharing,k

Eli - 7-10-2005 at 03:28 PM

Oh Neal,

Thank You so very, very much, that was just the best story yet!

Neal did a geat job !

beercan - 7-10-2005 at 03:30 PM

I am sorry for your loss.
We too lost our 10 yearold Shepard-pit Roxie on January 1 2005.

When we returned home from Puertecitos B.C. that day she followed me in the house as we unloaded . She wouldn't leave my side and crawled into my lap when I sat down. She died that night.

yankeeirishman - 7-11-2005 at 04:19 PM

Remember these important facts of dog ownership:

Owners are more humane, have more friends.

Dogs with humane owners are happy and well-adjusted.

People who are humane, feel good about themselves.

So....
Your doggie had a great life I take it. :cool: