For the Love of Buster

I've got a bit of sadness to share. One of my family dogs, Buster, crossed the rainbow bridge on Christmas Eve. Buster was a nine year old Boston Terrier who belonged chiefly to my younger brother, Max. We had three Bostons growing up: Bandit, Birdie, and Buster. I've already told you all about my Bandit in an earlier post. Birdie is my sister's, although nowadays she's more my mom's since my sister went to college. Anyhow, Birdie and Buster were always very close. She's doing ok, but of course she knows. It helps that my sister brought her dog home for Christmas the day after Buster passed, so Birdie's had a positive distraction.

While we of course love(d) all three dogs, Buster was the sweetest, funniest, most wonderful of the bunch. Everybody loved Buster. He had the smushiest face of everyone, which earned him the nickname "Smush" among others (Smush, Squish, Busty, Bubba, Butt, Buttweed, etc.). Even though I know it's way TMI, I will explain the origin of the Buttweed nickname. **For those of you who'd prefer the mystery, please skip to the next paragraph** Ya see, Buster had a special talent for dingleberries. Translation: he needed his booty wiped every single time he went potty. What's more is that he oftentimes had grass sticking out of his butt afterward. Extra special. Hence, Buttweed. Anyhow, that's the end of the nickname story. Sorry for that, but when a dog passes you've just got to share everything about them with everyone. Even the not so shareable stuff. Never thought I'd be telling the masses about Buster's buttweeds!

Ok, for those of you re-joining us here, let's continue talking about how awesome Buster was. He was so snorty and so squishy. He had a big old head and comparatively tiny ears. He had bones made of rubber and would spend hours on end lying in the sun with his back legs stretched out behind him like a frog. He loved tug o' war. One of his favorite things was to hold onto the rope/tug toy and let my brother swing him around in circles. In their younger years, he and Birdie were best tug buddies. They played for years until Birdie lost her front teeth. Buster never quit. He lived for tug.

Buster was the gentlest dog...we got him when my brother was five years old and he'd let Max do anything to him without protest. I don't think I ever heard that dog growl at anyone. He was just so incredibly mellow and laid back. I've never met another dog quite like him: half clown, half cauliflower.

About four months ago, my family found out that Buster was in congestive heart failure. They did everything they could for him until he was no longer comfortable. Buster spent his last few days in the GA mountains with his family. He was on vacation in a cozy cabin with those who loved him most. On the way home, it became clear he was ready to go. My mom and Max took him to the vet the next day and said their goodbyes. They buried him in the backyard on Christmas morning. My mom says they're planning to plant a tree over his grave. I wasn't there, but I know he's behind his favorite avocado tree lying in the sunshine forever. He would have liked that. It's so strange to think of him being gone; he never outgrew his puppiness.

We love you, Buster. Keep Bandit company for us.

Birdie (left) and Buster (right)