Buddy Forever ❤️

A tribute to Buddy & navigating the loss of a beloved pet.

Our sweet Buddy.

This has been so difficult to write. Wednesday was a really hard day. We lost our beloved Buddy, a couple of days shy of his 15th birthday. This loss has been devastating for our whole family. It feels like we have lost a family member, because we have.

Buddy always felt like home. My sister Melissa was allowed to choose a dog to rescue from the RSPCA for her birthday back in 2009, and she chose Buddy: a beagle who loved my Mum’s chow mein, playing on the trampoline, and sleeping next to my Dad’s guitar. We never would've known back then just how much he would grow to mean to us all. Through many of our milestones, Buddy was there with us. Always in the background, probably eating our leftover scraps. He enjoyed life’s simple pleasures: eating, sleeping and laying in the sun. After graduating high school, I felt so lost and would walk Buddy around our local park each day, to give myself some structure and routine. I felt so unconditionally loved by him. He didn’t care about my perceived failures or shortcomings, he loved me anyway. With him, I could just be. He snuggled into me as we sat on the grass, headphones in my ears, his fur warm from running around. I can still remember his heavy breathing, his smile, the way he took in his surroundings. When I was busy worrying about things that didn’t matter, I was creating memories with him, which now, are all that matter to me.

I was on my way to visit Buddy on Wednesday, when I learned he had just passed. Buddy passed away peacefully at home, having his head rubbed by my Dad as he told him how much he meant to all of us. My parents essentially created a hospice situation for Buddy for his final months. I’m so proud of how they both took care of Buddy during this time. Not many people would’ve handled that situation with as much empathy, sensitivity and heart as they both did. Melissa called me shortly after, I answered the phone call with “I already know” with a shaken voice, trying my best to hold back my tears in public. I continued to catch the train to my parents house because I knew the most important thing was that we were altogether.

“It’s no chow mein, but this is alright!” — Buddy

Visiting home after Buddy passed was difficult. I realised how I had grown accustomed to hearing his paws touch the tiles, and finding his fur on my clothes. I found myself quickly closing the laundry door, worried he would run out, when I remembered he wasn’t around anymore. His empty kennel and uneaten snacks painful reminders that he wasn’t coming home. My Mum, Dad, Melissa and I sat in the sun as we had deep conversations about life, and times that have passed. Dad told us how his 30s were the best years of his life, because that is when my siblings and I were all kids. We reminisced about how Buddy would run ahead with no sense of direction when he was off his leash, how he had low iron just like his human sisters, and that one time he slept in my bed and teenage me wasn't happy about it. Mum told us how even in his weakest moments, Buddy would still perk up when he smelled her cooking her beloved chow mein, which made us all laugh.

It has been such a difficult year for my family, losing my Nanna in February, now Buddy, and everything else that has happened in-between. I keep thinking about how one year ago, I was getting ready for a massive trip to New York City, and how within a year, so much has changed. I realised this loss has been particularly difficult because Buddy represents the end of an era for my family and I. No matter how far I moved away, or what season of life I was in, I always pictured my family home, standing still and holding all of our family memories. Buddy was always a comforting and grounding part of that image. He was an important part of our family history, and losing him reminds me that I will continue to lose things. We will all just be memories one day, and nothing can stop life from slowing down.

Such a good boy.

My sister Melissa & Buddy.

I have struggled with feeling terribly guilty and angry with myself amid my grief. I recently wrote some copy for a friend of mine who owns a hair salon. They have recently expanded into the beauty space, offering massages and facials. I refused any payment, so they surprised me with some vouchers for their new services. I went for a massage yesterday and found myself unexpectedly emotional.

As my head was buried in the head rest, I heard a delicate piano instrumental playing a familiar tune over the Bluetooth speakers. I quickly realised it was When She Loved Me by Sarah McLachlan, which featured in Toy Story 2. It is heard in the film during a flashback sequence, where Jessie details her experience of being outgrown by her original owner Emily. Jessie was Emily’s favourite toy before she grew up and her interests shifted to makeup and music, neglecting Jessie in the process, and soon after, keeping Jessie hidden underneath her bed. My eyes began to water thinking of the lyrics. My mind showing me montaged memories of Buddy, through what felt like the lens of a camcorder. “Is the pressure okay?” the masseuse asked. “Yep!” I replied in between a sniffle. I could hardly feel anything. I just wanted the song to be over.

I knew all of these feelings were there, but I wanted to wait until I was home before I surrendered to them. My family had Toy Story 2 on a high rotation growing up, and that scene resonated with me even back then, encouraging hoarder tendencies and me vowing to never get rid of any of my toys. The scene took on a whole new meaning as I reflected on growing up, and the process of sacrificing time with loved ones in order to become who we need to be. I have wondered if Buddy ever felt sad or ignored as I grew up and eventually moved away from home.

Every time I visited he would greet me at the door, with a big smile and his tail wagging. He wasn’t one for grudges, and would embrace me as though no time had passed. Still, it is in my nature to beat myself up about things, and never feel like I have done enough, and losing Buddy has been no exception. While I have so many memories to hold on to, I think of all the moments that I missed. I just hope Buddy always felt loved. I was exactly where I needed to be when I was an apathetic and self-involved teenager, but I hate that it takes getting older and losing those we love, to realise how important they were to us. When the massage was finished, the masseuse offered me some makeup remover, noting my mascara was smudged. “It happens to all of my clients” she told me. “It’s the head rest” she explained. I went along with it — I didn’t want to explain that her Pixar instrumental playlist had me weeping, so let’s blame the head rest!

Buddy in his hipster era.

It’s funny how grief will have you praying, and begging for God to take care of your loved one. Buddy passed away at exactly 11:11 Wednesday morning, and many would say those are angel numbers. I’ve been hanging on to any sign that indicates that Buddy is safe and at peace. The idea that Buddy is gone forever, is too much to bare, so I need to believe in something bigger right now. It’s easy to dwell on all we have lost, but I must remember all that we gained by having Buddy in our lives. It only hurts this much because we loved him so deeply. Buddy had a good life with us, and I know he will be watching over us all.

A friend commented “Buddy Forever” on my Instagram tribute for Buddy. It was a simple sentiment, but it gave me some comfort. They were exactly right. It will always be, Buddy Forever.

The last time I saw him 🥺

We love you Buddy, you were always such a good boy ❤️🐾👼