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P.O. Box 445
Troy, IL 62294

Phone: 618-346-3010

Buddy Dog's Story

My name is Buddy. I'm what I hear is called a black mixed breed with white markings. My Mother, Lady, was a Black Labrador with a beautiful, shiny black coat. People would always stroke her and rub her ears and tell her how beautiful she is. My father left before Lady gave birth to my brother, Junior, my sister, Molly and me. So I don't know what he looked like. Lady snuggled us, licked us to keep us clean and fed us from her stomach. Soon after we were able to eat food our people brought to us, folks would come by, pet Lady and tell her what beautiful children she had.

Then one day a man and a woman and a little boy came to see us. They held each of us and the little boy said "That One" and laughed and danced as he carried my brother Junior out the door. I never saw him again. I heard later that he had chased a car and been "killed", whatever that means. Soon, some more folks came and again held Molly and me, watched us walk and play. They took Molly out the door with them. I never saw or heard about her again. Then a day or two later, a man and woman and three children, two boys and a girl, came and played with me. They were so excited and talked about "Christmas" and took me out the door with them. Doors have some special meaning because I never saw Lady or her people again.

We got in a car and the children took turns holding me while we rode through some strange places. When the car stopped we got out and the largest kid, a boy they called Randy, carried me in a new house. There was a beautiful tree in the house with beautiful lights and beautiful shiny balls all over it. At the bottom was a lined basket that they pulled over and sat me in it. I'm a quick learner and after every nap or meal they took me outside to relieve myself. I soon learned to whimper when I wanted to go out. They praised this and told me "good dog" when I did. The girl, Cindy, had stuffed animals on her bed and gave me one to carry around. The youngest boy, Jimmy, always wanted me to sleep in the basket next to his bed. As I outgrew the basket I started sleeping on the bed at his feet.

We had more fun-first playing fetch with a ball and then I learned to catch a Frisbee and run it back to them. Most fun was going to a park with a lake and they would throw a toy into the water for me to leap after and swim back with. Then, when we would go to the picnic table, I would shake the water from my coat and listen to everyone howl and laugh as the water flew all over. There was always a blanket on the back seat for me to sit on for my wet ride home. So many wonderful days. The children would go to school, I would follow the woman around the house and bark at any strange people that came by. Then wait on the front porch for my kids to come home and play. Life was so good. Good wholesome and nutritious food and clean water, kids to play with; a warm place by the fire in winter and a cool house in summer. Health care, grooming and love. The vet always put jingley things on my collar.

Then one day, Randy started taking his clothes and things out of the closet. They talked about him "going away to college." And one day he took all those things out the door and I didn't see him much after that. Sometimes he would bring a girl home, she would pat my head and say "nice Buddy." The next year, Cindy did the same-going out the door and seldom returning. I still carried around the stuffed toy she gave me. Then it was Jimmie that went through the door. A Christmas or two later, my big folks said this was the last year in the house, they were moving to an "apartment." Soon some men came and carried out everything in my house. My big folks held me and said the "apartment" wouldn't accept dogs but they would take me to a place that would try to find me a new home.

Now, here I am in a cage with a concrete floor. The food is clean but not as good as I've always had. And never any meat. There are other dogs my age around-mostly black mixed breeds like myself, except for the fuzzy white girl with the red stain around her mouth. Every Saturday and Sunday they take the puppies to a large cage up front. People come in and laugh and hold them. Many leave by the front door. Sometimes, some people will walk back to where we big dogs are, maybe give us a treat from the bowl up front. Those are the only treats we get here. Maybe even pet us. So far none of the dogs back here have left by the front door with a new family. My people, especially my children, have never come to see me, play with me or pet me.

Every Monday a woman and a man bring a big covered crate with iron wheels into our aisle, take one of my neighbors out of the cage and put him/her into the covered crate. Then they wheel the covered crate out the back door. None of the neighbors has ever come back to his/her cage through that door. Well, its Monday now. Every dog between me and that back door is gone. I hear the covered crate coming now. They are putting me in it and we are going out that back door. I hate doors. Will I see my children now? Am I going to a new home with children to play with? Oh! I sure hope so. We adult dogs are so good with children. We let the toddlers pull our tails and ears, and if they get to rough we just get up and move away. And the big kids-we'll play toss and fetch as long as they want.

Oh!! I do so hope I get children...



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