To some this writing may sound “sappy”, and maybe so. I am emotional today. There are times when reality smacks you so hard in the face, however, that you can’t help but be somewhat overwhelmed by it. Today was one of those days for me.
I was sitting in the veterinarian’s office today — always a long wait — when a woman came in with three children. Two of the children were obviously hers – they looked like her. One of the children did not. He also was not dressed the same as the other two. His clothing was torn, tattered, and was dirty. He was wearing a baseball cap — a Dallas Cowboys hat — and it was not clean. He was a beautiful child with a smile that instantly grabs your heart with eyes that told the story behind what the smile could not completely cover up.
I was sitting in the chair, hooked up to my IV, holding our two smaller dogs. My husband was sitting in the chair to my right and our older, larger dog was sitting on the floor. As they walked in, the little boy immediately came over and sat on the chair to my left. Within a few seconds it seemed his small hand was outstretched, palm up, to let my two little dogs “investigate”. They began licking his hand, and he giggled about the “kisses” they were giving him. He was particularly fond of our dog Clyde — who is the smaller dog — and he began asking questions about him. When he found out that even though he was the smaller of the two Clyde was a male, the bond was sealed. He and Clyde were “buddies”.
Clyde of course loved the attention — and introductions were made. I found out that this little boy’s name was Robert. I asked him where his mother was. He looked across the room, struggling and said, “That’s my friend’s mom. I’m staying with them this weekend.” There was no other explanation. The woman across the room said, “We help out on the weekends and he stays with us.”
Robert asked me “what kind of dog” Clyde is — and I told him the story of how we rescued both Bonnie and Clyde from some very bad people. All the while, he was petting Clyde with such care, such gentleness. He was talking about how soft Clyde’s hair was, and told him that if he had a dog like him, he would straighten out his hair, brush him “really good” and put him in a dog show . . . “and we would WIN.” That was a statement that would be reitterated several times throughout the course of our morning. (“Yeah, buddy, you and me would WIN.”) I asked Robert if he would like to hold Clyde. A huge smile came across his face. As I handed the dog to him, I noticed the care with which Robert used to place Clyde on his body. It was from the heart — something that cannot be “faked”. This little boy felt a “kindredship” with Clyde. I would later, but subtly find out why.
Instantly, Clyde was his buddy. “That’s my buddy,” “How you doin’ buddy?”, “You’re such a good boy, buddy” were the affirmations Robert gave Clyde — and Clyde ate it up! Robert was elated when he guessed Clyde’s weight – 6 pounds – correctly on his first guess. He said, “Hey buddy — I KNOW you! I KNEW you weighed six pounds!” I told Robert that he was amazing, that no one had guessed Clyde’s weight correctly the first time. Okay, it was a little bit of an exaggeration, but he was a little boy who was just so happy. I think God will forgive me this time. When a big dog who was particularly vicious came into the office, Robert put Clyde up over his shoulder, held him, and whispered to him, “Don’t you worry, buddy — I won’t let anyone hurt you. You don’t even have to look at that mean dog.” He was Clyde’s protector. As I kept telling Robert all of the good things about him — that he was so gentle, that Clyde liked him so much, that he was such a good protector and that dogs know who good people are and Clyde could tell that Robert is just GOOD, he began to beam. It was at that point that Robert’s friend, Zariah, decided that she too wanted to snuggle with Clyde.
Robert was very reluctant to relinquish “holding priveleges” to Zariah. He said that Clyde was HIS buddy, that she could play with Bonnie. He said, “He has been afraid because of the other dogs. You might scare him.” That may have been true, but it was very quick thinking on Robert’s part as a reason for Zariah NOT to hold Clyde! After some discussion, I told Robert that he needed to let Zariah hold Clyde for awhile. You can well-imagine the delight on Robert’s face when, after handing Clyde to Zariah, Clyde wanted to return to Robert. He puffed up and said, “See, Zariah, that’s my BUDDY. He wants to come back to ME.” He petted Clyde and assured him that he was going to stay with him, that he was right there.
Throughout the course of this encounter, I was torn between giddy laughter and tears of sadness. Robert was insulted for Clyde when Zariah asked him, “Do you like Justin Beiber?” In utter disgust, Robert said, “JUSTIN BEIBER? Zariah, Clyde’s a man — he doesn’t like Justin Beiber!” At that point, Robert took Clyde back and said, “It’s okay, buddy — Justin Beiber. My goodness.” Then he said, “You don’t like Justin Beiber, you like” — and started to sing the Wobble song. He must have thought that I may not like that song, because he got “Wobbl . . . ” out and stopped. I said, “Wobble baby, wobble baby, wobble baby, wobble . . . ” With that, Robert leaned away from me, shot his head toward me and dropped his jaw. It was PRECIOUS! He said, “Oh yeah.” Then Robert and I sang the “Wobble Dance” song while Robert had Clyde gettin’ his groove on to the music.
Zariah was telling me that her puppy was going to be big — that it was a shepherd. Robert said, “I wish I could have a dog. I would have a dog just like Clyde.” Zariah said, “You do have a dog.” Robert searched the room, thinking. He said, “No I don’t.” Zariah said, “Yes you do. Your mom has a puppy.” Robert said, “Yeah, but that’s my mom’s dog. I don’t see her. I live with my dad.” Zariah said, “Some weekends you see you mom.” Robert responded, “Not for a long time.” ZING. The moment for which I was not prepared. The moment that takes your breath away so badly that you don’t know when — or if — you’re going to get it back. Clyde was the dog we “rescued” from bad people. Clyde was Robert’s buddy. Robert was Clyde’s protector and NO ONE was going to hurt him. The emotion flooded over me like a tidal wave. I struggled with all my being to keep my composure. Robert and Clyde were kindred spirits.
I managed to maintain composure, pull myself together, and continue with the merriment that Robert was obviously enjoying with Clyde. While he had some interaction with Bonnie, she was bigger and well, she was a GIRL. Robert and Clyde were buddies. They had a bond forged in the early seconds of their meeting that was undeniable.
I have thought and thought about this little boy, about what his life might be like, about how grateful I am that Zariah’s mom provides him a safe-haven on the weekends that he doesn’t see his mom. And I have cried. A lot. And I have re-lived those moments today in my mind already tens of times. I have also giggled — at the sweet little boy who was such a good friend — such a good buddy, protector, and hero — to Clyde. And as I mimicked Robert’s rendition with Clyde of him getting his groove on, I sang “Wobble baby, wobble baby, wobble baby, wobble.” And I giggled. And I hope that wherever you are Robert, you felt that today you are someone incredibly special. I hope that one little dog could give you that feeling for however brief your encounter with your buddy was today. God bless you.
LIFE WITH A GRAIN OF SALT AND A SLICE OF LYME 