"Buddy was a golden retriever who somehow knew exactly when you needed him most. He'd rest his big, warm head in your lap without being asked — and somehow that was always enough. He loved Tuesday mornings, the smell of rain, and cheese. We had thirteen years together. Not one of them wasted."
Found this on my phone this morning. Buddy at Centennial Park, the day he decided to steal James's sandwich and absolutely refused to feel bad about it. Miss him so much. 🐾
I've been thinking about the morning walks. He'd always stop at the same corner to sniff the rosemary bush. Every single time. Thirteen years of that corner. I walked past it today and just stood there for a while.
He was always more of a couch dog than anyone admitted. Supposedly he wasn't allowed up there. He was absolutely always up there.
He always waited by the front window on Sunday afternoons because he knew I'd come for tea. Not once did he get it wrong. Clever, patient boy.
Found this from 2014. Baby Buddy, day 3. He had absolutely no idea what stairs were. Took him three days to figure out the bottom step. Some things take time. He was worth all of it.
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