THE BUD SAGA - PART 20

Whoops - I thought this had posted this morning. Sorry about that!

I guess I don't have to tell anyone the result of the Olympic men's hockey game?? What fantastic fun to watch...especially since we ended up with the gold!

Now I'm going to check out the closing ceremonies!

Original post:


Last night I was sitting in front of my home computer reading about the huge earthquake in Chile, reflecting on being fortunate as to live here instead of there….and it happened. It sounded like a huge truck rolling inside the house. It couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds, but it seemed to go on and on. Not being used to that kind of thing, our first instinct is not to duck and run outside, but rather to sit and listen, wonder and wait.

I should have seen it coming – the dogs had been acting nervous, wanting outside, then immediately back in again. I suspected there were deer wandering around outside, and the last thing I imagined was an earthquake. It’s such a rare occurrence here, although I can remember the animals reacting the same way when we had earth tremors a couple of years back.

Hummm…interesting that it happened just when I was thinking about it. Maybe I should think about having a visit from Brad Pitt, or George Clooney….LOL!

What with the storm causing havoc with electric power (read: “the absence of”), the fascinating moments of the Olympics, and our working extra hours for the tax season, I have been unable to post for a couple of days. I’m on my way back to the office now, and want to get home in time to watch the Canada/USA hockey game for gold, so will post this chapter of my Bud Saga, and be on my way.

YOU WANT ME TO BABY-SIT WHAT??? - The End!

My friend had called on a Thursday night, which meant that I would have to take Monday off work if I was to keep my promise to pick him up. It was easier than I thought. My mood was not the best at the office on Friday. I was mentally counting off the days until doom – I’d be leaving the dogs and the bush. My boss remarked that I was oddly out of sorts, and asked me if I was feeling okay. Bingo!

“No,” I replied. “I think I’m coming down with something. There’s a flu going around.…” And so the stage was set. After all, it wasn’t a total lie. Maybe heartache wasn’t a valid reason for missing work, but I really didn’t feel okay.

The dogs and I spent the weekend roaming the bush, me nostalgic, them innocently gleeful for the time outdoors. The walks were only interrupted by the packing of my personal stuff that had accumulated during my stay. I had four boxes ready, and was slowly filling my backpack and the two suitcases, leaving them lying open on the floor upstairs, putting in clothes as I took them out of the dryer, or as I picked them up here and there around the house.

My mom, who had been a frequent weekend guest, called on Sunday night. I spent some time on the phone with her, but her attempts to comfort me failed. When we finally hung up, I realized that Bud had pulled his disappearing act again. I found him upstairs – surrounded by most of my clothes that he had dragged out of the cases onto the floor. Was he trying to tell me something? Nothing was chewed except one of my dollar-store slippers, which he still held between his paws when accosted. It was the one I’d been wearing when I’d booted his butt outside during our confrontation. Okay, I guess that’s understandable. Instead of getting on his case, I walked over, took it away, and hugged him. He was overjoyed with the cuddling....and probably now associated destroying a slipper with good behaviour. Well, it wouldn't be mine he’d be chewing in the future. My friend would just have to deal with it.

I called in sick on Monday, and was at the station when my friend arrived. He looked exhausted. He tried to make conversation during the drive to the house, but I could see it was an effort. I cut him off

“Hey, man,” I said quietly. “Just leave it. You’ll be home shortly….you can have a sleep….and we’ll chat later.” He visibly relaxed, and said nothing more until we pulled into the lane and stepped out of the car. Bud was in the window, looking out at us with his dead stare. My friend saw him, and stopped in his tracks.

”Maybe you had better go in first,” he said pensively. “Bud might not remember me.”

I couldn't help it – it was payback time. “Aw, go on. You’ll learn to love him again. Just give him a chance!” He caught my innuendo, and laughed, but still shoved me gently ahead of him when we opened the door. Bud came quickly to us, his eyes fixed all the while on my friend. There was no wag to his tail when he pushed past me to sniff at the newcomer. We waited. It took a minute, then the pit’s demeanour changed.

Don’t let anyone tell you that a dog has no memory. It’s NOT true. The gentle words, “Hey. Budinski....you miss me?” was like a shot of adrenaline for Bud! If you have ever seen an ecstatic dog, this was one! He was all over my friend, excitement in his every move. Ben and Beef, recognizing the master’s voice, had come running too, and pure bedlam followed. My friend let it go on for a few minutes, then he spoke.

“Enough. Quiet down, now.” He didn’t raise his voice. The dogs, even Bud, immediately went to lie down in their places. I stared at them, especially at the pit. In spite of us liking each other now, I still had to talk strongly to that darned mutt to get him to listen to me! And here he was, perfectly obedient!

“You little Sh*t!” It came out involuntarily. “How come you don’t listen to me like that?” Using my attention as an excuse to get up, Bud pranced over to me, fawning his apology. The hypocrite!

My friend stood smiling at our interaction for a moment, then turned to take his bags into his bedroom. Giving Bud a last insulted “Humph!” I pointed to the couch, and the little Sh*t actually did what he was told. I heard the shower come on, and I busied myself preparing a hot meal.

It was only later when we were installed by the fire, coffees in hand and the labs at our feet, that my friend asked me if I was in a hurry to return to the city.
“If you could stay on for a bit, I’d appreciate it,” he told me.

“How much of a bit are we talking about?” I asked. He held my gaze long enough to make me uncomfortable before answering.

“Maybe forever. I think that’d be good. If it’s okay with you.” What?? Speechless, I stared back at him. I guess my expression made him realize how blunt his words had been.

“Right. That didn’t come out so good. Look, I know we’ve tried this before, and it didn’t work out. But things have changed. I’d like to have another go at it.” Stunned, I sat and listened as he told me how long he had been thinking about this, how he could tell I already loved the place and the dogs, and how certain he was that I was the only person he would want around on a permanent basis, how he wanted me to stay. I was silent, my mind in turmoil, as I listened to his words.

My friend knew me well – it was time to leave me alone. He stood up, told me to take my time making my decision, then bent to kiss the top of my head before going to bed.

I’m really not sure how much longer I sat there motionless by the fire. I do know that at one point I got up, poured my cold coffee down the sink, and opened a beer. I can remember counting the cans to see if there were enough of them in the fridge to get me drunk. I’ve heard people suggest ‘sleeping on it’ when there is a decision to be made. Maybe, except I can’t sleep when my emotions are at their peak. I returned to the rocker.

My friend’s character was not run-of-the-mill. It takes a certain type of person to be able to do the work he did – and that type was not easy to live with. One minute he would be there, the next he would be gone, and no explanation would be forthcoming on his return. He had settled down for awhile, trying a normal routine, buying the house and the dogs, but obviously was back in the field or my ‘babysitting’ would not have been necessary. However, there was no question about his loyalty, or his charm. We were very close, even more so after the short period during which we had been intimate. That part of our relationship had ended by mutual agreement a couple of years ago, and I had moved to the city, only coming back for the occasional weekend stay. We would, however, speak on the phone nearly everyday. Ours was a typical case of ‘can’t live with you, can’t live without you’.

Suddenly the beer went flying out of my hand. I hadn’t heard Bud’s approach, so wasn’t prepared for him ramming his big head under my arm. He would do it often when wanting attention, and it never failed to catch me by surprise. I didn’t scold him this time. Instead I grabbed and hugged him close, burying my face in his warm neck. He twisted and licked at my ear. The labs, wanting in on the action, got up, vying for their share of petting. I gathered them around me, embracing each in turn. I don’t have to lose them…nor leave this place. I can stay if I want to.

Did I want to? Was I ready to change my life again? I knew I loved my friend, and that some of the time we would get along great. But when we didn’t, it would be hell. Both our attitudes would need more than a little change if it was to work, and I wasn’t sure either of us would be willing, or able, to accept the fact. I had heard of people staying together because of children, but because of dogs? The thought made me smile. I still hadn’t decided, but cuddling them had relaxed me, and had eased my mind enough so that I got up and headed for bed. I would try the ‘sleeping on it’.

I hadn’t been in bed long when I heard a creak on the stairs. Who was coming up here? I waited, watching the corner. He peeked around at me. Strange – he’s not done that before.

“Come here, Bud.” He wasn’t prancing as usual either, but came to me with his head down, his tail only wagging slightly. A picture of a dog in misery, definitely not the cocky pit. He licked my hand before getting as close to me as he could, then stood there quietly, his weight heavy against my arm, as I stroked him with the other hand.

Who knows what a dog is thinking? I could only deduce that his master coming home meant, for him, that I would be leaving, and he was doing his best to show me that he didn’t want me to go. Probably I used his actions as an excuse to make the decision that I had wanted to make all along.

I leaned over and kissed the top of his head, much as his master had done to me. “Okay, you win,” I whispered. “I’ll stick around. I’ll even stop calling you a little Sh*t. I like Budinski better. How’s that? You good with that?”

The lick on my ear told me he was. Emotions at peace, we both settled down for sleep. Tomorrow would start a new chapter in our lives, and we would face it together. Me and the ‘scary’ pit-bull.

The End

Epilogue

We’re still living in the bush, and wouldn't want to be anywhere else. Bud, though more mature, hasn’t lost his ‘in-you-face’ attitude, and continues to amaze visitors with his tenacity for chasing rocks or ice up and down the hill. Ben is still with us too, and we do our best to make things easier for him, because he can no longer move around like he once did. Our walks are shorter.

I lost my lovely old Beef three years ago, and cried for days after burying him beside the path we had strolled together.

There has been a new arrival – a young pit we called “Grumpy”, and this time I knew what kind of training was needed. The result? He is one of the sweetest and most unimposing dogs I have ever met. Obviously my perception of the breed has changed drastically, as does that of anyone meeting my dogs. Pit-bulls are like any other animal or child – they give back whatever they have been given, be it love, or be it anger. Vets, or any connoisseur of animals will agree - the master makes the dog.

To soothe my uncertainty that things would work out, my friend sold the house to me. It is now my own home. The basement has been renovated and contains his attractive, complete apartment, so we can share the house, and the dogs, but each has our own space. And we’re still the best of friends. Him – the dogs – and me.

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I should add a second epilogue. Ben died after this story was written, and is now buried beside Beef here on my land. And, as I mentioned in a former post, the star of this piece, my Bud, has been diagnosed with cancer. He is still holding up. He does sleep more, but enjoys the extra spoiling by his mistress. We’re taking it day by day.

Gotta run! Hoping your weekend is a good one, and sending you a huge SMILE!!

Luv from the Bush in Quebec.