Time changes everything

You've no doubt heard that time heals all wounds.

And no doubt you've heard the corollary of that; time wounds all heels.

That came to me while I was reminiscing about Buddy, the German Shepherd I had when I lived in Durham. I grew up with dogs, and I'd had other dogs before Buddy, but Buddy was the first dog I'd been soley responsible for as an independent adult.

I used to leave Buddy in the garage during the day when I headed off to work. Spring came along, and now and then, if it wasn't forecast to rain, I'd leave him outside, tethered to the deck.

One night I came home, and Buddy was tether-free, awaiting my arrival. Also awaiting my arrival was a hysterical phone message from the neighbour behind, about how Buddy had attacked her daughter and dragged her down the street by her hair...

Well!

Without waiting to hear Buddy's side of the story, I immediately gave him a bad-dog thrashing.


On calm reflection, with the passage of time, it dawned on me that Buddy could not be guilty as charged.

Not that he wasn't guilty. I fully understand and acknowledge that he may have dragged that kid down the street by her hair... but he was just playing!

Those neighbour kids behind used to cut through my yard on the way to school. In hindsight, I should have taken that into consideration. But I didn't. Nobody's perfect.

Those kids had a good relationship with Buddy. I imagine that a couple of hours after I left for work, he was thrilled to see them coming through!

And they would have been thrilled to see him too! Possibly thrilled enough to let him off his tether.

At which point Buddy's exuberance may have got the better of him... hence that unfortunate phone message.

I thought things were OK between me and Buddy after that, and for awhile they appeared to be. I even got him little Charlie, a black lab cross, as a playmate to while away those long hours in the garage,

Then one day, when we'd taken our morning ramble through the Durham Conservation park and into the countryside beyond, Buddy disappeared.

He disappeared right around a deer yarding area, and I assumed he'd just got busy chasing deer.

I always hoped he'd come home, and he sort of did.

Three or four weeks after Buddy went missing, me and Charlie were heading off on our morning walk, and there, stretched out on the walking path right in front of us in the dim light of an early morning, was good old Buddy!

I was thrilled!

I didn't make too big a deal of it. No "bad dog" shit on account of having gone missing for a few weeks. I just let things ride.

Alas, Buddy only lasted a few more days with us; he disappeared for good the next time we passed that deer yard.

I figure that on his first awol, after getting tired of chasing deer, he'd found a local farmer who knew a good dog when he saw one, and fed Buddy accordingly.

That would have seemed a much better deal than being cooped up in the garage all day, with or without his new pal Charlie.


I think Buddy just came back to say goodbye.