ANDY

“Did you adopt him from an animal shelter?” She asks.

“No, we got together purely by accident. I was driving from an acquaintance’s house one night. I was going along this not so well lighted street when I heard a thump. I stopped thinking that I hit something, someone, hoping that it wasn’t a kid. I stepped out of my car to look around. At first, I thought it was a racoon. I looked closer and saw a puppy,” he says.

“Oh, I see,” she says.

“Before I could do anything this cop pulled up wanting to know if I had car trouble. I told him that I had hit a puppy and before I knew it, he was out of his vehicle, looked at the puppy, told me to open my back car door then he gently lifted the puppy, laid him on my backseat then ordered me to follow him to an animal hospital. The doctor said that it may take a few days for him to heal so I said okay then he asked if I was paying the bill. The police officer was still there, and I was afraid to say no because I thought maybe he would write a cruelty to animal violation on me if I did, so I said yes and yes to I will adopt him because it was surely a street animal and that was how me and Andy got acquainted. I named him after the accident. The doctor said that he was a Labrador Retriever,” he says.

“You two became good buddies right away?” She asks.

“No, not right away, he would drop or dribble his internal waste right where he stood on the floor in the house. After the fourth day of cleaning up after him, I decided to take him to an animal shelter and leave him. An attendant changed my mind and gave me instructions on how to stop his messing. I took him home and began to follow the instructions and it stopped. But I think for sure after he saw those caged animals and figured that could happen to him, he got an idea what I was upset about and that helped also it was mostly my fault too,” he says.

“What do you mean?” She asks.

“The first instruction that I got was to take him on scheduled walks every day,” he says.

“Yes, that would have been helpful,” she says.

“You see, I never married or had children, so I never had the experience of responsibilities for another not even a pet. I never looked forwarded or desired to have a pet and then that was broken and my knowledge of caring for any pet was nothing,” he says.

“You start taking him on walks?” She asks.

“Yes, but it took hell to get used to disposing his number twos,” he says.

She laughs.

He laughs.  “Like I said before I lived by myself all of my adult life and just was not used to seeing another soul walking around my house on a long term basic. I mean my siblings children used to visit for a babysitting overnight; this was different,” he says.

“You two start to be buddies? She asks.

“Well, I mean, all of sudden, I had two mouths to feed but he became my television watching partner, never had that before. He was never fussy about my channel searching or what we watched,” he says.

“That is a great sign of being a buddy,” she says.

“I remember when I took him on his first, well second, car ride where he had the ability to see what was happening. All my adult life very few, maybe once or twice a year, someone sat next to me on the passenger seat and all of a sudden, here he was every time I had to use the car to go someplace. One time I saw this gal had a bandana in a bandit’s mask around her dog’s neck. I bought one for Andy and believe me that he liked it. I mean that it would get dirty and stinky, but he would not let me change it until I showed him a new one that I bought.  I mean I must still have a hundred or more of those things in a drawer,” he says.

“He liked his décor,” she says.

“Sometimes I would have to take a ride to take care of some business and it would not be feasible to take him. Neighbors when I returned would say that Andy bark and howled until I returned. So, when I had to go out on one of those rides, I stopped at a fast food joint and bought a hamburger for him and he caught on fast enough,” he says.

“Did he expect a treat when he rode with you after that?”

“No, the ride was his treat, but the hamburger was my punishment for not taking him with me,” he says.  

“Wow he was smart,” she says.

“He tolerated my cigar smoke. The other people that did so were the other cigar smokers at the lounge that I go to. I drink bourbon but no more than two ounces a day, that’s my limit. Yeah, he was my back-porch buddy enjoying what we liked to do while taking in the scenery of the sky, loved being patted on his noggin,” he says.

“Did he sleep in bed with you?” She asks.

“He tried but I wouldn’t have that, so I bought a single bed with all the accessories then put it in my bedroom against the wall,” he says.

“Did he like the bed?” She asks.

“Oh, hell, yeah, he loved it. When I start to shut off the down stair lights, he was in his bed under his blanket before I reached the bedroom. Over time he got slower, but he made it to his bed.” Choked-up he says. “That where I found him that morning before then he got up with me but not that morning.”   

Someone says, “it’s ready.”

“I’ll be right back,” she says.

“Okay,” he says.

She returns with a ceramic of a Labrador Retriever with bold black ‘Andy” under the face. Its lid permanently closed with glue. She gives it to him. He looks at it. “Andy’s ashes are in here?”

“Yes,” she says.

“Thank you,” he says.

He takes his only and forever buddy home.