Buddy. Just Buddy. Sometimes they call me the Budster, Hey Buderino, the Budman, Budinski, Lil Bubba—but I just like Buddy. Don’t know why they feel the need to give me all the diminutives. I am a three-year old Poodle-Shih tzu mix—more poodle than anything else. And I’m a pretty good-looking dog too, even if I say so to myself many, many times. In your world it’s arrogance, in mine, not so much. And I’m not the only one. Charlie, my house mate, has this idea that we must be kin somehow. Don’t know how: I’m a dog, he’s human. That’s really simple math, my friend. “How else can this dog be so good-looking, if he were not related to me somehow? They say that pets almost always resemble their owners in more ways than one, more often than not,” Charlie always says. I would argue that he’s not that good-looking, and he’s not even half as smart as I am. Arrogance? Me? Not so much. I’m a poodle, remember? It’s not really smarts, I think it’s a matter of common sense. And that’s what I’m all about, really. It’s all pretty simple if we choose to follow and see things with a good nose and a keen eye. As I always say, Buddy knows…
You see, when I was a young, cute little pup, I lived in a boarding house for dogs—at least, that’s what everyone called it. Not true. My three brothers, two sisters, and I were sold to different individuals, couples, and pet shop owners for a lot of money through a very successful puppy commerce operation. You should have seen the look on their faces when Charlie and Amy were given the price for me. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” they said. But one glance at my wagging tail, tiny pup barking, and stretching out my little furry torso, and it was all over for them. No contest! Game over! Hearts were won that day, my friend. I know how to do happy puppy. I’m not bulldog slow, I’m a poodle, remember?
Now I share a place with Charlie and Amy, his wife. It’s a pretty sweet set-up. I get my own room, my own meals, whenever I want them, and sleep as long as I like, and wherever I like. Whenever I want a bath, I just start scratching all over, especially behind my ears. Or, I start nipping at my legs. Works every time. I always have friends and not-so-friendly guests over, at times, when I’ve run out of things to do or think about. It helps to pass the time away.
During the day, I have the entire house to myself. I never leave a deposit—unwelcomed gifts, really–for fear of disappointing Charlie and Amy. I just hold everything until they get home. They just want to love me as much as I can handle. Pet me and squeeze me till the blood rushes to my head and I cannot breathe. Love me; crush me until I die; that’s what they want to do to me. Sometimes I wonder if they had had any of their own, what would become of me? Don’t really care right now, I just want to get a little snack and take a nap. I’ve got people coming over this afternoon. So the Budster needs his rest.