Buddy the Dog's time has expired. Don't worry - he's not dead. (By the grace of God and the strength of my willpower and the fact there was never a blunt object available when I needed one.)
I am joking, of course. I am not the type to harm a dumb animal.
When I think of how incredibly cute Buddy was as a puppy, I kind of miss him. (The puppy. I miss the cute puppy.)
And when I think of how excited Sarah was to receive Buddy for her birthday last January, it makes my heart ache to have sent him away.
He was the very center of her 7th birthday party.
In those early days, there seemed to be an unspoken promise of years of loyalty and togetherness.
But that "promise" went unfulfilled. More recently, puppy cuteness was replaced by Buddy's unbridled enthusiasm ... for doing whatever Buddy wanted to do.
He seemed to lack the loyalty gene. As well as whatever DNA governs intelligence.
When Buddy slept, he was a good dog. When Buddy was awake, he demanded constant attention. Here, for example, we are having a family moment while opening a care package from Grandma Gross. Caleb is involuntarily "playing" with Buddy.
Buddy did a lot of barking, especially since we returned to Haiti in August. Often he barked just to hear his own voice. Sometimes he barked to helpfully let us know that there was movement somewhere on the 30 acres of mission grounds. Roughly 18 hours of each day he barked. Or whined. Or ... and this is something he invented ... he whine-barked.
He whine-barked because he was unhappy about being tied to a dog run. But there was no other option.
If Buddy had just proven to be annoying and needy, that might have been tolerable in the long run. He was still technically a puppy, after all.
But there were bigger problems. When we returned after a summer away, we found Buddy quite used to being free as a bird and the mission's night guardsmen quite fearful of Buddy. While they made their rounds, he would chase after them threateningly and, in return, they would fend him off with rocks and sticks. A few times, the men had managed to land a blow to his hide and a few times Buddy had gotten close enough to sink his teeth into a leg.
So for the last 5 or 6 weeks, Buddy was either inside (which caused him to pout like a teenager with an unfair curfew) or tied up on the line outside (where he'd whine-bark to be free).
Each evening, I ran with him on a leash to tire him out so that he wouldn't nibble on my toes at 2:00 am for attention. I made an effort to introduce him personally to various night guardsmen. I punished him when he made threatening moves at strangers and rewarded him when he was friendly.
Then, one evening, he slipped out the front door a few steps behind Melissa and within 30 seconds, literally, had charged a slender, innocent Haitian woman 200 feet away at full speed. For her part, she did everything correctly: she stopped in her tracks, stood still and made no threatening moves. Buddy savagely tore into her skirt anyway, ripping it and biting her leg several times before we could intervene and pull him away.
Melissa helped to calm the lady down and gave her a new dress to wear home. I turned to the kids and broke the hard news: that was the last straw. Buddy was too unpredictable and had to go.
There were a few tears and protests, but Melissa and I had made up our minds.
So Buddy was allowed to live, but required to do it elsewhere. Fortunately, he was able to go back to his original owner, Johnny, up the mountainside about a mile from our house. That's a safe distance. We no longer hear him barking.
Peace has been restored to our home and Melissa and I are getting much better sleep.
(And apparently Buddy has made a name for himself in Johnny's neighborhood ... and Johnny's mom couldn't be happier to have him around. She no longer fears outsiders disturbing the safety of the house or her family!)
For our part, we replaced Buddy with a bunny, yet to be named.
Bye, Buddy. We'll come visit you sometime.
Briefly.
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