Friday, February 5, 2010

By now, it's apparent that lil' Buddy is no longer with us. With all the demands I was facing, I couldn't keep him indefinitely and so we let him go with another gentleman who graciously agreed to accept Buddy into his family. Max, oddly enough, seemed a little down after Buddy left. I think he had become accustomed to sharing space with Buddy. He may not have readily shown it, but he had bonded with his pack mate. Of course, Max soon came to his senses and returned to the exalted status as "the only".

Turned out Buddy was a closet freak! He was all timid when I was around, but the minute he was alone, Buddy turned mannish. For months after he left, every time I washed a load of clothes, I would find a pair of underwear destroyed. Panties of every color and style with the crotch chewed completely through! I had never seen anything like it. Then I learned that some dogs are attracted to human pheromones. Seems that Buddy consoled himself when I was away with the smell of my drawers. Max is not destructive in anyway, so this came as a complete surprise to me. I can leave clothes lying around for days and Max would never touch them.

Lately I've been thinking maybe it's time we brought another dog into the mix. We could use some younger energy around here. Alas, Max and I have become so synchronized in our existence that I question whether another dog would fit in. We have our daily routine down pat. An hour of exercise in the morning and he's good for the rest of the day. On the days when the weather is ugly, Max can wait until there's a break in the clouds. He doesn't even mind sleeping in when I need a little extra shut-eye.

Max goes to work when I do, keeping watch on the street while I earn our keep. He comes up to the office around 6 o'clock to let me know it's time to take a break and prepare his dinner. In the evening, he dashes out to the fence out back to hunt down the possums and squirrels, take potties, and returns to scratch on the door. Then he's ready for evening treats. Max is my road dog, riding shotgun in the back seat when I'm out running errands. He barges in to Mom's house when I go to check on her and runs straight to her bedroom to let her know we're there, always in contemplation of his reward. She never fails to show her love with a little chicken favor. I never have to worry about him going beyond the boundaries of our property, or into the street; he always stays within hollering distance.

I ask myself, how would another dog fit into our tightly knit lives? The same way Buddy did, I guess. I'll just keep a closer watch on the panties next time.

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