Back in 2001, as a little girl, I went with my parents to pick out a puppy. Out of a batch of 12 standard poodles, I finally decided on the perfect one. He was a sweet, gentle, curly-haired ball of fur at the time with gleaming, bright brown puppy dog eyes. It was companionship at first sight. After hours of contemplation, I decided to name him Rainbow Sparkly.
My parents were against that name though, so I settled for the name Bucky. Bucky and I spent every waking day together. I would dress him up in my princess outfits and hula skirts. We both loved car rides, and I would copy Bucky as he stuck his head out the window, waving his long, pink tongue all around in the wind. We had our first snow day together where I told Bucky he was a reindeer and had him run down the hill pulling me on a trashcan lid over the snow. When Bucky became full-grown, we was a massive, hyper, rambunctious thing. I would sometimes sit on him like a horse and have him run around the trampoline.
Every beach trip, Bucky jumped around in the waves with me (even though a few times he drank too much salt water and got sick) and loved being with the family. On school days, my mom would pick me up with Bucky sitting in the backseat of the car, head out the window and all. My first-grade teacher called him my “hairy brother”, and being an only child, that’s exactly what he was to me. Even though he couldn’t talk, he always listened to me and my problems better than any human ever could.
As I grew up and lost friends along the way, Bucky never left my side. When I was sick, Bucky was there to be my 100-pound lap dog. He was such a spectacular snuggle buddy. When I cried, Bucky was there to lick all the tears off her face until I was laughing. When I didn’t like what mom cooked for dinner, Bucky was always there to sneak under the table and eat all of it (he became a big beggar for food because of me… we spoiled him way too much). But somehow along the ride, the little girl I used to be grew up and eventually went away to college, leaving Bucky behind. Of course, I would come home occasionally and see his big happy face greeting me at the door with love and kisses.
When I came home, he treated me like I never left. But while I was growing up all these years, Bucky was too. Slowly, every time I came home from college, Bucky had aged a little bit more. It started with him forming potentially cancerous growths on his sides. Then he lost his hearing, so whenever I would come home, he would no longer be there at the door to greet me because he couldn’t hear and therefore wouldn’t know I was home yet. Lastly, he slowly lost his balance. His poor legs just couldn’t keep him standing up. So, when I came home for spring break of 2016, it was Bucky’s 15th birthday. Then, the day after that, I said goodbye to him forever.
So hey Buck,
I know you’re a dog and will never actually read this, but I wanted to say thank you for being my hairy brother, my partner-in-crime, my happy go lucky companion. No other dog is ever going to replace what you were to me. I’m so thankful that you let me celebrate your very last birthday with you before going away. I hope you’re drinking out of Jesus’ toilet bowl this very minute and loving it. See you soon bud.
-Reg
And for those of you who don’t believe that a dog can be a girl’s best friend, you are just so very wrong.
