Introducing....

Buddy!



Buddy is a staple in our house. He is an important factor in the life of Hamish. You see, Hamish is actually a bit of a loner. I'm not sure if it is a Beagle trait or if it is because Hamish is so lazy and doesn't really want to spend the energy interacting with the other animals/humans in the house. Don't get me wrong. Hamish is FRIENDLY. Very friendly. And lovable. But he does his own thing when and where he wants.

And the "where" never involves an automobile. But that's a story for another time....and a phenomenon with this dog that will never change regardless how much doggie-dramamine we give him.

But Hamish has his Buddy.



I should probably call this specific stuffed animal "Buddy the Fourteenth" or Buddy XIV....because he is really a 14th Generation Buddy. Or 15th. Or 22nd. I've lost count honestly. All of Buddy's kinfolk preceding him have suffered a terminal illness known as grossness-smelly-caca. Washing after washing would not rid them of this disease so they were delicately placed in to the trash. But only AFTER the next generation Buddy came to live with us.

Because Hamish would be lost without his Buddy.

Here is Hamish and Buddy shortly after retiring for the evening. He was snoring away when I snapped this picture (Hamish, not Buddy) and, yes, Hamish sleeps with his eyes partially open most of the time. I think it's because he wants to make sure nobody kidnaps buddy.



The flash woke him. I'm sure if he could talk he would be saying, "Whaddya dooooo-innn wakin' me up like that?" Yes, in my head Hamish talks like that of Hugo the Abominable Snowman from the Bugs Bunny Cartoon era.



On this particular day there was tragedy in Buddy's life.



This picture resulted in two things. 1) Buddy was released from the jaws of the Pet Door and 2) I cleaned the area in/around the Pet Door. Ew. Just Ew. I guess that's what happens when 3 dogs and 2 cats, who all shed and roll around God-knows-what, come in and out of a pet door 40 times a day. Why didn't I notice that sooner?

And here is Hamish sleeping again with Buddy. At the top of the stairs. Just yesterday.



Again with that one eye barely open...and the flash wakes him up.



"Whaddya doooo-iiinnnnn?"



"You cannot take my Buddy. I need to pet him and love him and maybe I should have called him George."



"I am going to take my Buddy away so you cannot hurt him."



And the thing about Hamish and his Buddy is that he really doesn't ever hurt him. He pets him and loves him (yep, really loves him) and squeezes him. He carries Buddy around everywhere but he NEVER chews on him or rips him apart. Buddy always remains completely intact until the day he is gently put in the trash.

And finding Buddy is just about the only exercise Hamish ever gets. Well, besides this. "Go get your Buddy!" This phrase both excites Hamish and gets him worked up to a point that he pants and drools all over looking for his little friend. And if he can't find Buddy?

Well, any old brown fuzzy thing will do....

Can we talk email?

Talking. Email. I know the two contradict themselves but just hear me out.

A few weeks ago I sent an email at work to 4 people asking a question about a process that takes place during the course of my job. 4 people. People who are perfectly capable of answering the question.

The first few days the email progressed back and forth between the original 5 people involved in the conversation....the 4 people I asked the question to and myself. 5 people. 5 people who are perfectly capable of having this conversation and coming up with answers and/or suggestions to the question.

But then it was silent. Kind of like the silence right before you get a tornado warning. That eerie, dark, still silence that gives you goosebumps and makes you throw up a little in your mouth...especially if you live in the midwest. I don't. But my Grandma has practically her entire life. I've heard stories.



5 days ago I log in to all of my work applications, including my email. And I see it. A response! A possible answer? Or maybe a suggestion? But certainly some activity! The silence is over.

But remember that throw-up-a-little feeling? Yeah. I should have paid attention to that. The email now has 17 people on it. With no answers. Just more questions. Except the questions are now directed at me. ME.

What? Those 4 people I initially emailed? Oh, they are still in the email chain. They are the ones asking ME the questions.

Remember back in the olden days when you just walked in to someone's office, had a conversation, maybe followed it up with a meeting after you invited the other 3 people who needed to be in the conversation, then MADE A FREAKIN' DECISION? It was too much work to walk to 17 different offices, have the same conversation over and over and over again only to take those 17 different conversations back and forth to the original 4 people. Life was simpler back then. In 1982. Without cell phones or email or cell phones that could get emails.

Email has overcomplicated the decision making process. Just sayin'.

I'm getting ready to be off work for 2 weeks. And tomorrow is a holiday. So there will be no definitive answer for me before I leave because I am required to answer questions I do not know the answer to before they can answer the questions I asked originally. And there is no telling how many more people will be added to the email chain while I am gone and how many more questions there will be that I still cannot answer because I have other questions I still haven't answered in order for them to answer the questions I asked originally.








(this space left intentionally silent while you read that last paragraph 3 more times)










Excuse me while I go rinse my mouth....I just threw up a little.