Husband, memories, nostalgia, Uncategorized


I haven’t even seen the new kids move “The Secret Life of Pets,” but it’s prompted a blog post anyway.

The other day I was at the gas station when I noticed a black and tan dachshund stuffed animal with a collar that said “Buddy.” It was $10 and I am a grown woman, but fuck it – I had to buy it anyway.

It reminded me of my old black and tan dachshund, also named Buddy.

Growing up I was never much of a dog person – I always preferred cats. I had my own cat, Petey, in Ethiopia. His name was very original since he was given to me by my BFF at the time, Peter. The family also had two rescue dogs, but I didn’t have much to do with them. Then, after we moved to Sweden my family tended to stick with cats.

My husband is very much a dog person, so within our first year of marriage he bought me a miniature red doxy named Sweet Pea. We then decided she needed siblings and we got Buddy and his dapple sister, Flash.

While I loved Sweet Pea and Flash… and subsequently Sweet Pea’s daughter, Peanut, after Sweet Pea was gone… Buddy was always MY dog. He was smaller than Sweet Pea , but he was a runt not a mini.

As one would expect from a runt, he acted like his was bigger and tougher than every other dog. He was loyal to me and me only – only liking  my husband when he would do the Elmo voice at him… This would warrant the wagging of tail and licking of face… Otherwise Buddy was not amused by any of Jason’s shenanigans.

Buddy habitually stood between me and Jason/men in general and growled. He knew what was up, haha.

Recognising in myself now how previous relationships had me cope and behave in certain ways, I look back wondering if Buddy picked up on that somehow and knew he was supposed to protect me from males in general.

There was also an occasion in which a vile woman at the vets office was being a jackhole – acting superior like she knew ALL about animals because she was the vets’ wife, yet made lots of jerky movements and had a non-friendly tone of voice in front of my dog. When he stood between us and then started growling in his low-growl warning kind of way after a particularly hostile body movement, she insisted that he should be put down because “Look how aggressive he is!”

What the fuck ever, bitch – step out of his mama’s space and stop using threatening body language! You know animals so well, huh?

Eventually we had to give him away because he was getting increasingly hostile to Jason, especially when I was around, but he went to live with a little old man that lived alone and he seemed to get along just fine being his Buddy.

A few years later, Jason got me another male dog – an Australian Blue Heeler/Australian Shepherd mix – that was supposed to be more “my” dog again. We still had Flash and Peanut at this point as well… But Boomer, as he was called, never attached himself to me quite the same. He was more difficult to handle for me (listened to Jason and was a good dog overall, he just didn’t listen to me well and was much too excitable in general for me.) And … he just was nothing like my Buddy-Boy.

2 thoughts on “Buddy-Boy”

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