By A. R. Graham

Buddy does not like other dogs very much or people for that matter.  He was a one-year-old cup of sadness when he was adopted from an animal shelter and was days away from going down for the big sleep.  Buddy was no one’s buddy at all.  He rejected all contact from canine or human; either did he seek it.  He was in his own world and he was angry.  So it was futile to try to coax him or pet him because he always seemed to be saying, “Get away, you, and the horse you came in on!”

His parents often walked by our house in the evenings and I would always try to make contact with the little fellow because even though he was taciturn, he seemed to be looking for something or someone like a tracker on the hunt for a fugitive.

One day “Frankie Dog” came into our lives.  He was also a tea-cup-size Dorky with a sad little face and little beady black eyes.  He looked like a figurine more than a dog.  I was standing outside one night watching little Frankie playing on the lawn when Big Bad Buddy came by.  He took one look at Frankie and just marched right up and starting investigating, but this time, he showed no signs of anger or aggression.  He was even wagging what resembled a tail with much velocity.

Frankie liked Buddy immediately and wagged backed with Morse-code-like urgency.  They bonded instantly and Buddy never missed a chance to return.

Each time they met it was a gleeful wag-fest and much information was transmitted in dog talk.  It was a prolonged pulchritude.

When Frankie dog left us, our hearts were broken and we were riddled with inconsolable sadness.  The little soul we adored so much was gone forever and just when we thought it could not have been so sad, Buddy came by and was very upset that Frankie was not there to greet him.  For a second, the old anger in him stirred as if something precious to him was missing.  A great weary and gloomy state fell upon us all.  Both families were now grieving for Frankie and Buddy was very disturbed by the absence of his one and only friend.

Buddy still comes by every day looking for his best friend.  The very first thing he does is search all around for the lost soul dog.  He stands there as if talking to the spirit of his lost companion.  His parents indulge him in that sweet little ritual because he seems to come away from it refreshed.

I saw Buddy today.  He was taking his parents for a walk, and as usual, he was bouncing along as if on a quest or a campaign to locate something.  His little body quivers and his sawed-off tail whirls like a propeller.  He is happy to see me and I him.  He checks me out; then seems to say, “Okay!  We are done here. NEXT!!” and off he trots to the next clue.

Frankie Dog lives on even though he has left us, but you would have a hard time convincing Buddy that Frankie’s spirit is not still ever present.

Long Live Frankie Dog and Buddy Dog!

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