Just Buzz

Jack. Russell. Terrier. Notorious. Known for their tenacity and intelligence. A breed chosen by my husband for their size, looks and charm. I researched this pup as I do most things that require a decision. I read many things that just did not fit our lifestyle. I also wanted a dog big and intimidating. A boxer. A great dane. We lived in a condo. We both worked full time but opposite shifts.

Our Buzz was on a farm in Dixon literally standing on his litter mates. The mostly white alpha male. He had a broken coat like PBSs Wishbone and Frasier's Eddy. My husband chose his brother, much smaller, smooth coated brown and white. They were all equally adorable and spunky but this brother was aloof, as interested in the paper plate blowing in the wind as these new legs walking toward him. I wanted Buzz. I wanted the naughty puff of fur with the brown and black eye that ran around the others yipping and nipping them into puppy tag. He followed us on his little puppy legs and cocked his head to yip at us daring us to play too.

My husband lifted him over his head and asked if he wanted to go home with us. Buzz tried to bite his nose!

We returned two weeks later to bring him home.

At our condo he ran, yipped and nipped at us. He treated us like litter mates and lived up to all the warnings I'd read. We took him to puppy school, a special trainer and had him fixed. We crate trained him, walked him and rewarded him with biscuits. We had two boys to play with him and they all grew up together. Our house gave him a yard and a neighborhood to explore.

Buzz stayed spunky and naughty really until he turned fourteen last year. Then he became slower, more quiet and sleepy.

Although he could not see or hear he still followed me. Looked for me to get a biscuit. Slept on my legs, nosed my hands insisting I pet him. Waited for me to lift him onto his chair.

He watched me with those brown eyes even while we gave the go ahead to put him to sleep. No longer able to stand and walk on his own. His little body suddenly deceived him and was shutting down. The things he could not do were longer than those he could and he had lost his Buzzyness.

And we lost Buzz.

Now I am the one still looking for him. In the dark, in my bed, in the house suddenly too quiet and large.