The words "Remember remember the fifth of November" bring to mind Guy Fawkes Day and more recently the movie V for Vendetta. I'll be remembering this date for an entirely different reason, one that has nothing to do with movies, politics, religion, or gunpowder. Today was the day Buddy died. As those of you following my LJ or who've read my last entry know, Buddy has been doing poorly; he had an inoperable malignant tumor. As it is, when they diagnosed him back in March, we almost lost Buddy on the operating table due to bleeding, and that was just for a biopsy of the tumor. The vet had given him 1 month and he managed to get 8. As time has gone on, especially over the last month, it became more apparent that the tumor was causing Buddy problems. Over the past 8 months, he's had good days and bad days, but, especially lately, he's not quite been himself. I had been going over my parents, whenever I could, staying there to watch him when they were away, and calling them on the phone to check on Buddy (and my parents) when I couldn't go in person (like this week where I've been fighting a nasty viral cold myself). Got the word this Wednesday that Buddy wasn't doing well at all. Called again on Thursday, at night. I went over my parents' early this morning, Friday, to spend time with Buddy. Later, I went with him and my parents to the vet. I was there with Buddy when he passed.
I keep thinking back to when Buddy was a puppy, back when he was a little energetic 5 pound ball of fur. He grew into a 25 pound lapdog with an attitude, who would try to talk to get your attention. He wasn't just a pet, he was part of the family. He was also my friend. I miss him and I'll never forget him.