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.
"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....
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