Friday, March 23, 2012

A Day In The Life Of Teddy Buddy Boo Bear

Y’all know we adopted our precious Buddy Bear a little over seven months ago. I had prayed for a dog to find us. Four-and-a half-year-old Brown Lab Buddy, through our precious friend, Kit, did.

If he could talk, I believe he’d say he has a good life. I’d guess 95% of the time he’s happy. Content. Grateful. (Wouldn’t 95% be pretty good for us people, too?) 5% of the time he is (temporarily) sad. This happens when we have to crate him for a few hours (Once we leave, I’m convinced he puts a happy face back on as he looks out three windows to a beautiful view—but someday I need to borrow a video camera to verify this speculation.) or put him in for just a bit, while we eat. A sit-down-at-the-dining-room-table-with-real-plates-and-silverware kind o’ meal. If we eat at the island/counter—5 out of 7 days and nights a week—he usually goes to the front door, lays on the rug, and gives us the saddest eyes you’ve ever seen. It’s heartbreaking. We never like to see The Sad Eyes.

I thought it would be fun to share a day in his life (if I’m at home all day—which is usually three to four times in the work week):

 Monday thru Friday: TBBB is up and outside with My Sweet Hubby--MSH. (I don’t have a picture of this. I’m usually awake, but unwilling to get out of bed to document it—you understand.) Once around the house. Although he mostly never has to be on the leash when he’s outside with us now, he does have to be on it when it’s dark—in case he sees bunnies. If he sees bunnies, he's determined to get those bunnies. MSH found this out the hard way. Once was all it took.

BREAKFAST! (Still no picture.) MSH changes the menu for him every day. Some days it’s scrambled eggs, bacon and biscuits with gravy. Some days it’s pancakes and sausage. Some days it’s fried eggs and grits with cheese. I can usually hear him telling TBBB what he's about to have as he puts it in his dish and on his mat. Always, every day, it’s really IAMS. With Science Diet treats for his skin and coat, mobility and oral care. Bless his little heart. Not any of the above. (I receive no compensation for these endorsements—darnnit!) We are those pet owners that made the determined decision he won’t be allowed people food. Not on our watch. EXCEPT when he has to take his heartworm pill. Then he gets said pill in an itty-bitty peanut butter sammich—on whole wheat bread. Or we put it in a little piece of cheese. Once a month. Other than that?  Dog food.

—He hangs out in the hall by our bathroom and closets and waits while MSH gets ready for work. (Yep. Still no picture.) He wants to say: PLEASE DON’T GO. PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME. PLEASE STAY. He’s forced to just follow MSH around—as he makes his coffee. Or fixes his bagel. He watches MSH put his socks and shoes on. With The Sad Eyes.

—MSH leaves for work and TBBB heads to the window in my home office. To watch Hubby’s truck drive away. He waits a few minutes. (I guess he thinks there’s a possibility he could come back. Never happens.) Eventually, TBBB heads back to his bed. A little sad and depressed. However, he’s asleep PDQ. His Doggy Depression never lasts too long.

Snoozing.

Sometime between and a,m.--TBBB comes to find me in my office. He does his Doggy Yoga—seriously—he does Down Dog better than anyone I’ve ever seen. (I never have my phone/camera handy when he's stretching. If I do have it nearby and ready, I can’t catch him.) This is my official notification it’s time to go outside. For at least thirty minutes. And to the gate. If possible. He sniffs everything on his merry way. I mean everything. Sometimes he gets into a bit of trouble because he becomes so focused on a scent he won’t come when he’s called. Tuesday morn, he found a turtle. Lordy, he went slightly BaNAnAs. In order to get him away from said traumatized turtle (he had discovered flipping him on his back and then flipping him to his tummy again was fascinating—BIG FUN), I had to put him on the leash and drag him several yards down the hill. Silly Dawg.

Mr. Turtle.

Headed back from our walk.

From until —Nap time! In my office. Or wherever I am. Occasionally I can escape him. I can leave and sneak away to do some cleaning or laundry or piddlin’. I only try to be clandestine (not an actual verb?) so he won’t wear himself out following me all over the casa. However, he's usually aware I’m moving around and he’s gonna be right there with me.

to --Generally, he’s awake until MSH gets home. He watches for him at "Buddy’s Window." He’s learned to listen for the text sound my phone makes when Hubby is letting me know he’s on his way. Takes MSH about 25 minutes to get here. Those 25 minutes must, sometimes, feel like 25 years to TBBB. He’ll look at me like he wishes he could say: Where is he? Can’t you make him get here quicker? Why is this taking so long? When he sees Hubby’s car drive up? Sheer, unmitigated JOY.

TBBB:  Oh, boy! Oh, boy! He's about to walk in! I saw him from My Window!

From to 5: p.m.—TBBB gets to hang out with Hubby. They go back to the gate, if it’s not too windy. Or rainy. Or super cold. Then they hang out on the back patio or MSH sits on a rockin’ chair on our front porch, while TBBB chews on the same—or a new—rawhide bone. They meander and wander. They roam. They do guy stuff.

Guy/Chewin'-On-His-Bone Time.

—DINNER! TBBB is famished and it doesn’t take long to gulp it down. He usually hangs out in the kitchen, while we rustle up some vittles, and then he goes outside one more time. For the night. When we bring him back in, he heads for his bed. Sometimes he waits a bit to go there, preferring to hang out by Hubby’s feet—who’s in his chair—or me and my feet—while I’m on the couch.

—OFFICIAL BEDTIME! Hubby moves TBBB’s bed back (I’ve moved it into the Great Room in the morn) to our bedroom and my two fellas are gone. Out, like lights, in minutes. For the night. Often snoring in sweet unison. While I get to watch The Biggest Loser or Dancing With The Stars (please allow me to give you my opinion—for what it’s worth—this will be the BEST DWTS ever!) or other ELC-Only shows.

Nighty night night, TBBB.

REPEAT every Monday through Friday. Except the days I go to work. Or I’m in town early for coffee with friends or on errands. I won’t go into those changes. Suffice it to say this: He does NOT like those days. Period. The Sad Eyes come out and are there when I get back home. It’s tough.

On the weekends, MSH sleeps an hour later. TBBB gets to spend lots more time with him—outside. We plan dinner out with friends around TBBB’s schedule. We plan trips to TLC’s or Fort Worth or Granbury or Weatherford around TBBB’s schedule. Figuring out how to crate him the least amount of time. Guilt always works with us. Always.

He’s changed our lives and we utterly adore him. He is truly one of our Best Answered Prayers!

2 comments:

Autumn said...

Those pictures are so sweet. Sitting at 'his window' and lying in his big comfy bed. Bless his puppy heart. Aren't dogs wonderful?

The Leightons said...

Dear Autumn,

THANK YOU! I know--bless his little sweet puppy heart! Dogs are special gifts from God. (Morty would get hurt if I didn't say cats are, too! They're just so different. In an innerstin' way!)

DOGS RULE!

ELC