Stupid The Dog: The First Installment in a Sob Story About Dogs

I have had 5 dogs that were officially mine. It could be quite a few if you add the litters of street puppies me and my sisters have taken in. The first dog's name was Stupid; no we didn't name him that. We used to live in a cabin in the woods of Texas (we call them woods they're really just mazes of thorns, cacti ,and snakes) Driving up to this cabin you pass a small camp ground, that's where we met Stupid, every time we drove by he would chase after our car. He LOVED chasing cars. He was a pretty dog too, well, for a mutt. Black with a big white spot on his chest. Eventually dad figured that this dog would just get hit by a car if he kept going on like this, so he found the owners to ask them about the dog. They said that the dog's name was Stupid for a reason, and they could care less about the mutt. So later that afternoon Dad drove up to where me and Cady sat playing with the kittens (yeah we had about 15 of those, but that’s another story, and no I am not a crazy Cat Lady) in the front sitting next to him sat Stupid. They'd let dad keep him. So of course being the creative children we are, we named him Buddy. Buddy was amazing, and we loved him to death. He was the only dog I knew who insisted on eating cat food; I swear he wouldn't eat his dog food! But that’s fine enough, the cats didn't mind him eating out of their bowl, they loved him. I would often come up and find them all curled up together. Sadly one of the things that made him so great was also the reason we lost him. Buddy was a great dog to take fishing; it’s like he really knew what was going on! He would bark and play all the way down to the dock, but once down there he would lay down at your feet intently watching the water, not making a sound. Maybe that was him agreeing with me, that fishing was just about the most boring sport ever. We went to Fort Worth for the week and came back to hear from our neighbors that the original owners, Uncle, had come fishing and Buddy had tagged along. The guy was so amazed by Buddy he kept him. That was pretty crushing. I now understand that it was for the best, he has a good home, with a fence to keep him from chasing cars. And we were to leave for Russia months after we lost Buddy. What would we have done with him then? Thanks Mr. Original Buddy's Owners Uncle, for taking my dog. Even though you didn't ask. Man that’s sad, he should have asked. P.S. sorry I don't have a picture of him, I know we have one somewhere....but that’s most likely in a galaxy far far away.

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