Bulldog News: Buddy Is in the House{23}

Bulldog News: First Edition!

Buddy

Buddy has already been knighted with some telling nicknames by his admirers: Buddy Britches, Buddy Big-Boy Pants, and Buddy Brownchaps. I’ve assured him, we’ll just stick with just Buddy.

We just finished week two together, and Buddy and I are settling in quite nicely. Yes, the lovefest continues full throttle. Of course, welcoming a new canine comrade to the house is a lesson in patience, understanding and dishing out an inordinate amount of butt scratches. If made to choose between food and water, and a vigorous rump rub, Buddy would gladly back in for the latter. In fact, at our current frequency, I suspect carpal tunnel syndrome may be in my future.

When Buddy first arrived he would not leave my side, oh wait, maybe it was the other way around. As he grew more comfortable with his surroundings and me, his personality and sunny disposition begin to fill the farmhouse. He is home now, indeed, and I thought I’d share some of Buddy’s adventures (and shenanigans) over the last two weeks. He is his own dog.

Getting to know the locals

Getting to know the locals

Buddy met with local canine glitterati, Phoebe and Tillie, who you may recall made headlines, after loyal friend Tillie sought human help to free her pal Phoebe from being trapped in a cistern.

Climb every mountain...

Climb every mountain…

I left Buddy for just a moment while I went to feed the chickens. When I returned, he had pushed the chair back so he could use it as a step stool and launching pad to reach the tabletop above. And may I add, he was totally unapologetic. I call it Buddy’s beast mode. When he wants something under a chair, he just body blocks it and moves the chair out of the way. From wicker to wing backs, my little furniture mover is undaunted by the weight or size of the object to be prodded.

Update: And, as for the People magazine diet issue on the table, well it was a bit of joke by a well-meaning, albeit cheeky, friend — a not-so subtle hint about a direction I should take in the coming year. Oh, I’m on it, after the this double cheeseburger and chocolate shake.

Update II: I seem to be missing my camera. I left it on the table, I’m quite sure. I just hope it’s not corroding under some moss heap in the yard or entombed in a dust-bunny warren under the bed. I will send out a search party shortly. Now Buddy, I’m not pointing fingers or paws, but you do have proximity and nature working against you here.

Sleeping beauty

Sleeping Beauty, make that Sleeping Buddy…

Buddy has an interesting sleep regimen. In my bed, he is a torpedo to my battleship. I’m trying to train him that my lower back is not a good place to rest, and that sidling next to me is better than laying on top of me. And unfortunately, Buddy thought my CPAP sleeping mask was the perfect chew toy. I’m not sure what was worse: a mask chewed or dripping in bulldog slobber.

that is one toasty store

Buddy trying on his new collar for size at Filson.

Since 1897, Filson has been known for its unfailing goods, and so what better place to procure a new leather collar for Buddy than this iconic Seattle retailer, besides it’s the only thing I can afford in their leather line. While the impressive new store on 1st Avenue South had me at hello, Buddy and I were sweltering. Not sure how Filson’s moleskin-shirted, wool-vested, logger-hatted store clerks don’t spontaneously combust after a few hours on the floor. A panting Buddy and Tom were welcomed with open flannel-sleeved arms and treated like a prospector who had struck it rich. Thank you, Filson.

where's the ferry

“What do you mean we just missed the ferry?”

In the truck, Buddy is a committed wingman and shotgun-riding aficionado, offering notice of dogs nearby and ferry workers wanting tickets. Because he is so much bigger than Boz, Buddy has a clear view over the dashboard and is just one well-placed hat and coat away from facilitating my entry into the carpool lane (dashing brut and commuter that he is).

sleeping buddy

Buddy defying gravity

When I’m in my office (read kitchen table), Buddy is torn between supervising me from his comfy bed or my uncomfy cane chair.  First he’ll try the chair and its elevated perspective, but the combination of sleep, relaxation, and gravity never bodes well for my furry upright sleeper. Minutes later, he returns to his bed, and gives me a look that is the canine equivalent of “carry on, carry on.” And so I do Buddy, so I do.

In closing, I would again like to thank everyone for their words of kindness, support and encouragement over the last several months; it meant (and means) so much to me. Thank you.