44: Buddy Bark Bark

(Part two of story about the dogs I rescued — who ended up rescuing me!)

Elvis, my first rescue, time with me was just under two years. My furry friend passed happy, loved and in my arms. I could not let the pain continue and he told me his journey on earth was coming to and in.

While tears streamed from my eyes, a joy arose that he will be soon running free. “Run, Elvis, Run!”

For two weeks, I was lost a bit. No one to great me at home, and no one to walk. Week two I started searching on line for a suitable owner of me.

Way up in Fresno County, “Skip” was on a website. He had an occluded eye and no one wanted him. The silky terrier was in a rescue home for at least six months. Something about my picture caught me, and that caught me heart.

So I called.

Yes, he’s avail! They told me I would have to hurry as his time there was short. No one wanted him because of his eye. Damaged goods was the given reason. Well, that fit me as well. “Damaged goods.” I assured them I would come up and get him the following Saturday. The home insisted if I did not, he’ll be shipped out, which was meant the end for him would have been near.

I rented a car and headed north on the 5 freeway. Clearing LA, it looked like an easy and simple journey on California 99. Little did I know, Fresno County is about mid-state of California and a four hour one-way trip.

After finding the rescue place just north of the Fresno County line, I met him. All washed up and on his best behavior. The place gave me several opportunities to pass and another pooch, yet I knew this terrier and I would be best buddies.

This pooch was mine, and he was an immediate buddy.

That’s how his name came. On the short drive back to the southbound 99, “Buddy” stuck with me. Then, with an ode to Elvis, “Buddy Bo Jangles” was his new name. He was not a Skip, he quickly became my Buddy!

The “Bo Jangles” was in two parts. Nancy, my sister, had a dog named Bo. The sweetest yet mischievous mutt who would drag home road kill, tree limbs, and did dog things anywhere he choose. The Jangles portion is from the famous Jerry Jeff Walker that he wrote, the song of a drifter and his pooch in New Orleans. In the song, Mr. Bo Jangles would dance with his pooch at “minstrel shows and county fairs throughtout the south”.

As Buddy and I bonded, the rescue dog did something I discovered with Elvis. He needed up rescuing me. I’d come home and he would await my return. Morning walk and evening strolls were once again on the agenda. I found focus in life because of Buddy.

One thing about rescue pooches, the senior ones come house trained. Although they had to train me on their needed cues, not one mess was made in the home.

Buddy and I started to journey outside of California. I was getting behind a mountain of debt from a painful divorce, and my roots were calling me. By this time, my ride was updated to a trusty long distance truck. To Colorado, Kansas, and many stops in between, Buddy and I traveled the great Southwest, Four Corners, and the Great Plains.

On sleep patrol.

No matter where we went, Buddy insisted on being in the front seat and offered navigation points. He would nuzzle, or outright bark when it was time. Not a soft “ruff”, but an ear-splitting, glass-rattle one ‘Bark’ that meant he had business and business would be good! While startling, it did get my attention and his cue was a message delivered in full force.

The road trips were grand. In all, Buddy made at least seven round trips to either Kansas or Colorado with various points. He enjoyed the sniffs, smells and meeting my sister, Nancy, and brothers Mike and Ed. Most of all, Buddy enjoyed being with me.

We found a new home in Santee near the lakes and bid good-bye to North County. With the pick-up packed it, was south to an entire home shared with Harley who owned Tim. Enter the “Bark Brothers”, a noble gang of royal dogs that not only were owners of two humans, they ruled the block.

Back Scratcher!

In a reconnection trip with my son on a fishing and family expedition to Colorado, Buddy was there for the adventure! My son and I left way to early and hit the 15 north and then 70 east. As the sun set Buddy was wondering where we going to stop for the night. Although he had necessary breaks he wanted rest. Little did he know, I did as well, yet my son guided us through the Breckinridge divide and settled in for a final jaunt into the front range. About 18-hours after we left San Diego County, it was 2 a.m., and finally sleep time in the foothills.

One thing about Buddy, he let me know when business had to happen. He needed business done right at sunrise — two and a half hours after getting to bed. That’s Buddy!

A quick yet needed trip was rewarded with another nap by us both. The weekends festivities were grand and he wanted to be in the midst of it all. Bopped tail wagging, Buddy was excited to hear other voices while experiencing new sniffs and smells and always looking out for people treats.

I was caught up in the house talking when someone let Buddy out. Being adventurous, he wondered to the street and across a major busy highway. Oh, my. I realized he was gone. A phone call from the local police department asked me if I owned a terrier dog. Of course!

Buddy wondered about a mile away and was found by the local police. On identifying him, Buddy came back riding like a king with all the lights on. He was Pooch Royalty!

A very nice thank you and a nice handshake, Buddy was back in my arms, wet nose and all. All those wild adventures Buddy and I experienced were great. In fact, it was him who helped me further in my journey.

The years were getting to Buddy. I tried my best, and he told me I did. His teeth problems were fixed, and it added spunk to his daily walks. Yet he started to slow down and the started telling me that he really didn’t need to go far.

The walks started to really tire him out, and he urged me to stop by the house to drop him off and go out for my own jaunt. He was, it seems, looking out for me.

Things about Buddy were unique. When he had to go outside, he would grab his leash and bring it to me. If I was cooking in the kitchen, he would let out one loud, definite “BARK!” He never had a cross bark about other dogs, Buddy was my buddy and friend to all. He enjoyed the travels and he enjoyed being with me.

A phone call from a friend at the humane society asked me if I would be interested in having two dogs. Of course, I had to ask Buddy if this was OK. In his own little doggie way, Buddy told me it was.

Enter a Black and Tan terrier that continued our journey with Buddy and I.

(The further adventures of the Bark Brothers in the next post.)

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