Hi Harminee
We lost our dearest Buster a fortnight ago at 17 years old. He was my Husband's Best Friend and I would love to get something he can put on his desk at work to remember our Stubby boy by. I wrote the following for him to notify our friends, so you may want to use just a few words from it. If you would find some time to do some of your magical work It would be a blessing. I cant seem to upload any photos can you think of a better way to get them to you?
"Buster boy, our Stubby man, left us quietly and with much dignity last night as the result of a stoke brought on by a brain tumour which he had been fighting for a number of months. At 17 he was still the original keep on keeping on dog, fighting to keep the spark in his little boot button eyes but last night’s stroke saw that slowly fade to confusion and we knew it was time.
He arrived in our lives as part of a search for a companion for our Jessie. She was a typical pup getting into mischief while we were out each day and we though a mate might keep her busy and perhaps quiet! Little did we know. The RSPCA had a number of beautiful boy dogs at the time but whilst walking them together they all seem so smitten by Jess that love was the only thing on their minds, scaring our virtuous young lady half to death. So I chose a smaller dog, someone not quite so threatening, scruff muffin, not to big not too small, funny old man looking boy with a “really I don’t give a damn” look in his eyes. He seemed somewhat ambivalent towards Jess but at least they were not fighting or loving!!
Two days later he Bustered outta the joint, rammed down the fence and taken the dame with him. Hours of frantic searching found them 3 suburbs away, having crossed 3 main roads during a storm, at twilight, in peak hour traffic. Shocked and amazed that they were both still alive, we got them home and dry, fixed the fences and looked forward to a more sedate life. A week later he did it again. We still can’t figure out how he got through the fence and took Jess with him again. This time looking long and hard and calling everyone we knew, discovered nothing but within 4 hours they both came trotting home with smiles on their faces and looking for some nosh. That was the last time they ever ran away from home. The battle scared tough guy had finally realised that this home was ok and hey he was fed regularly and walked and had a warm bed so why not stay?
Given up at 3 1/2 we could never figure out why someone would want to get rid of him, he was smart, cute and he was quite quirky. His RSPCA sheet said “not with stock” but subsequent visits to the RSPCA shelter, homing large variety of animals including sheep, only produced a sort of bored bemused look.
He had some crosses to bear, having been obviously beaten at sometime in his life which produced a fear of belts and sticks and Hypothyroidism nearly killed him at 4 but medication saw him leap back into his RamBUSTERous life. Full of spunk and irreverence, walking him was always an experience. A big man at the end of a lead he would hurl abuse at any male dog he saw so viciously that no matter how big the dog was it would always think twice. It was a tug of war; us trying to keep him calm and him yelling “let me off, just let me off, I’ll kill this b….d, if you would just let me off”. Off the lead he would just sidle up to other dogs sniff a bit and return to good as gold, often “asking” to have his lead put back on, to hurl abuse we imagined! There was the time ran straight to a goal post on the oval and peed carefully into a motorcycle helmet leaning up turned against it and the time when to our shocked and embarrassed horror he cocked his leg on a fellow dog walker’s pants who had scooped up her Maltese because she thought Buster may have been vicious. Both incidences had us running away as fast as out legs could carry us.
Indefatigable, leader of the walk, had to be first, strutting down the path with his cocky straight legged gait, kicking every tree and moving on so quickly that he never came to the end of his lead. Even as an old dog black muzzle gone grey, Billy Menzies eyebrows waggling, we would have to yell Basta Basta at his chutzpah. Neil always said, the force is strong in this one, and well, it was. He never never gave up, sliding on the polished wood floor, going out in the morning to “fetch” the paper, coming back up the hill pronking like a Springbok and pinching any food Jessie had left, he loved his dad, he loved his walks, he loved his food, he just loved life.
So he is gone, gone from the pathways and from his quiet corner of the room, but limping no longer, clear eyes bright, strong as an ox with his big chest thrust out, bouncing along, front legs first back legs behind, leading us all to that final place, he looks back laughing, pink tongue lolling out and eyes winking just daring us to catch up as he runs toward the rainbow bridge and home."
