Buster the Dog: Rolling Down the Highway

       Buster was brought to our family in a unique way.  He was thrown out of a moving car in front of my neighbor's house.

     "Hey, do you guys want a dog?" My neighbor Michael asked. Yes, we did.

     His previous owners apparently didn't have the wherewithal for a task as daunting as dog ownership. They made sure to slow down to at least 5 miles an hour, kindly, and utilized the freshly graveled shoulder of our road as a drop-off for doggy. He was shaped like a tube then. I wonder how far he rolled.

     There he was: A pug terrier with a snake-like mouth, buggy eyes, a pointy nose perched on top of his face like an alligator, and barely any meat on his bones. His anxious disposition was cured instantly once he found a blanket, clamped down, and began sucking. He missed his mom. Our Great Dane, Sophie soon became his new mom, and when she passed, he once again missed his mom. He stuck close to me--always. Buster loved to eat, and fed himself in between scheduled feedings. Starved and neglected as a puppy, his behavior and stress responses were engrained deeply, so he ate every meal, and scrap, and molecule of food like it was his last. If it wasn't tied down, Buster ate it, and this quickly became a concern as his ass started to fatten quite rapidly. So, instead of kicking him out of a moving automobile, we put him on a diet. It was a win-win.

     When a dog is so tortured at a young age, it can become vicious, but this wasn't the case with Buster. He was happy, and his teeth were always out. He smiled openly to the world that callously decided he wasn't worth keeping. I'm so blessed to have had him in my life. When I was ill, Buster would sit by my feet and nuzzle against me, and his under bite would dig into my calf. When I was doing well, Buster would run and play and roughhouse with me, making me feel like a kid again. Through thick and thin, he was there, trudging along beside me with his tiny feet. He'd accompany me on errands daily, slamming his baseball head against the passenger window until it was rolled down for him to feel the breeze, and we'd roll through town, listening to music.

     For almost a decade and a half, Buster lived with me in numerous places in Wisconsin: Mazomanie, Mt. Horeb, Prairie Du Sac, and two houses in Sauk City.

     When I was a cook, Buster had the pleasure of gnawing on the soles of my food-packed shoes after work, while grabbing onto them with both paws. He was waiting at home for me when I was pulled out of work to be notified of my father's death. He sat--stoic--and stared at my red eyes, and licked my hand. When I passed the Wisconsin state real estate exam, Buster and I celebrated, running wild around the house, growling, and rolling on the floor for a good twenty minutes.

     Buster came to work with me frequently when I built a mobile restaurant, and he sat obediently outside, watching me fix and fuddle around with gauges and propane tanks and freezers. His ears would perk up and he'd cock his head to the side curiously when the grill fired up. He was a strong supporter of anything to do with food... One day I didn't take him in the car with me, and that day I got in a single-car wreck. Every night, for weeks, Buster laid pressed against my broken ribs as if he knew the pressure was comforting. I missed Buster when it was time to go to rehab; but when I got out, he was waiting for me. His wagging pug tail and his crazy smile. It felt so good to see him through sober eyes. Especially today.

     As he passed today, him and I shared ear buds and listened quietly to music, just like we'd do after a stressful day. We relaxed together for the last time.

     From the moment he rolled down the highway, this dog has been a true companion. Buster would sit next to me every morning, waiting patiently for a goodbye kiss on the head, as I got ready to face the day. When the day was done, he would lay at the foot of the bed, clamp down on the comforter, and drift off to sleep.

     I miss him already.

     Rest In Peace, Buster
     3/6/13 
     Who's the special animal in your life? What life events have proven that your pet is always there for you?
     Comment below!


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Copyright 2013 Cole Bishop