File #937: "Mosaic_Spring2009_19.jpg"
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"Buddy and Me"
Frankie Rice
Did you ever know a dog like Buddy? He has blond fur, floppy ears, and a bushy tail. Then, you might have known my dog. When I first got Buddy, he may have been three years old. In dog terms, I think that made him twenty-one. He was not like any other dog I have ever known. He was smart, and I think he smiled at me.
He could run thirty-five miles per hour. Mom and dad clocked him one day, when we were headed to town. Everybody jumped in the car and headed out. Dust was flying behind the car. I looked out the window, and there he was running beside the car. I rolled the window down and hollered "RUN!" He ran faster. I looked at the speedometer as it reached thirty-five miles per hour.
Sometimes when I played with him, I thought he could sing. If I would sing he would start howling in this long "Oh-0-0- oh-h-o." It was comical to see us in action. On windy days, I would go out and the flag would be waving in the wind. Buddy's ears would be flopping, and my hair would be blowing. We had a special relationship that meant so much. If I went down the slide, then he would come up the stairs, and I would go down the slide behind him. This dog could do anything.
He could leap across the brook that went through the front yard. He never had to cross the plank passageway. I felt like we were inseparable. Buddy didn't age the same as I did. Even though we spent years together, our world was changing. I was heading for high school and did not have time to play with Buddy anymore. My routine was changing and unfortunately, his was too.
Now, I was supposed to take on more responsibility. Mom said that I could get a job. That meant that the time I was out chasing those floating clouds and playing with Buddy I could now spend working for Mr. Adcock down at the nursery. This meant I, too, was getting older. The years seemed like days, and time flew by. Buddy was now seven years old, which made him forty-nine in dog years. He was still fast, but I did not have time to play with him anymore. Before I knew it, I was getting married to the neighbor's boy. Buddy was lying on the front porch and not running down the driveway anymore. By the time my first child was born, Buddy was hit by a car. He lived to be a total of twelve years old, which is eighty-four in dog years, and I was twenty-two I miss my dog Buddy. Did you ever know a dog like Buddy?
Photo by Erika Betschart
Frankie Rice
Did you ever know a dog like Buddy? He has blond fur, floppy ears, and a bushy tail. Then, you might have known my dog. When I first got Buddy, he may have been three years old. In dog terms, I think that made him twenty-one. He was not like any other dog I have ever known. He was smart, and I think he smiled at me.
He could run thirty-five miles per hour. Mom and dad clocked him one day, when we were headed to town. Everybody jumped in the car and headed out. Dust was flying behind the car. I looked out the window, and there he was running beside the car. I rolled the window down and hollered "RUN!" He ran faster. I looked at the speedometer as it reached thirty-five miles per hour.
Sometimes when I played with him, I thought he could sing. If I would sing he would start howling in this long "Oh-0-0- oh-h-o." It was comical to see us in action. On windy days, I would go out and the flag would be waving in the wind. Buddy's ears would be flopping, and my hair would be blowing. We had a special relationship that meant so much. If I went down the slide, then he would come up the stairs, and I would go down the slide behind him. This dog could do anything.
He could leap across the brook that went through the front yard. He never had to cross the plank passageway. I felt like we were inseparable. Buddy didn't age the same as I did. Even though we spent years together, our world was changing. I was heading for high school and did not have time to play with Buddy anymore. My routine was changing and unfortunately, his was too.
Now, I was supposed to take on more responsibility. Mom said that I could get a job. That meant that the time I was out chasing those floating clouds and playing with Buddy I could now spend working for Mr. Adcock down at the nursery. This meant I, too, was getting older. The years seemed like days, and time flew by. Buddy was now seven years old, which made him forty-nine in dog years. He was still fast, but I did not have time to play with him anymore. Before I knew it, I was getting married to the neighbor's boy. Buddy was lying on the front porch and not running down the driveway anymore. By the time my first child was born, Buddy was hit by a car. He lived to be a total of twelve years old, which is eighty-four in dog years, and I was twenty-two I miss my dog Buddy. Did you ever know a dog like Buddy?
Photo by Erika Betschart