A few years back, when my son was five or six, I was in the garage working out on the stationary bike when a dog, and old golden retriever, came up my driveway and decided to lie down and take a nap.
I hopped off the bike and went over to see if the poor thing was alive. He was old, covered in dreadlocks and patches of blood on him.
He was breathing. I called out to my son to bring out some leftover chicken we had on the counter. Then I pulled down a bowl we had on a shelf in the garage.
Within a minute the half pound of chicken was gone, as was half the bowl of water. Then the old guy just stared at me, trying to Jedi mind control me into getting more food. My son said, “I think he wants some hot dogs.” I nodded and my son fed him a pack of hot dogs.
After the feast fit for a dog, the old guy came over and lay down at our feet. My son said, “I was going to name him Buddy, but after watching him I think I should call him Hungry Buddy Dog. I nodded and said, “I’m sure he’ll love that name.”
After a quick twenty or thirty-minute nap Hungry Buddy Dog stood up and had a burst of energy, he was bouncing around and super playful.
I told my son to grab the dog shampoo and a pair of scissors. I gave HBD and bath and cut out the unbrushable dreadlocks. And without scrubbing too hard, I cleaned his wounds.
He kept HBD for about a week. And unfortunately, he was somewhat neurotic and kept biting his wounds. I got him some meds to keep them from itching, but it didn’t work. Every day we’d come home there would be bloodstains from where ever we left him.
I was getting scared that he would die, so I called the shelter to see if anyone had called about a lost golden retriever, they said there had been a few calls. Turns out this was a week or so after the fourth of July and they pick up a bunch of animals that run off because of the fireworks and it sounds like old Buddy did the same thing. Buddy didn’t have any ID, but I packed him up and brought him to the shelter to see if he was the guy getting the calls.
The guy at the desk brought Buddy a few little treats and then scanned him. Apparently Buddy’s owners had a chip implanted. And Buddy was a dog that had a family searching for him.
The man at the shelter called the family while I waited. I hugged the old guy and went home.
My son came into the backyard while I cleaned the yard and said, “Where’s Hungry Buddy Dog?”
I said, “I found his family.”
“Will he be coming back?”
“I don’t think so, but if he ever runs away . . . he knows where we live.”
“Was he happy?”
Yeah, he thought you were a nice kid”
“I’m happy he found his family, but I’ll miss him.”
“I know you made an old dog very happy.”