Foster Doggie

We have a foster doggie, "Houston". A dear friend has come into some financial/health difficulties and now we have a new friend, perhaps too soon. He is sweet though, and it isn't his fault that his doggie life is in upheaval. Our little lab/chow, Addison, is rather enjoying the companionship, although he also enjoys time cuddle time with my husband and I, separate from our visitor.

9 days ago my dog (who I loved more than any person I have known thus far) passed away. He was 15 years old, but I only got to know him for a few years. Buddha, 85 pounds of Chow Chow, protected me before I knew that I needed to be protected.
Buddha growled at me the first time I met him, in the fall of 2001. He chose his friends, and I touched his fluffy teddy bear ears before he had gotten used to me or given me permission. His mama, Tasha, shuffled up to me and insisted that I pet her, which of course I obliged - it is hard to refuse a Chow. I have always thought that Buddha made some decisions about me that day, based on him mother's interactions with me.
The next time I met both of them, I was enduring a terrible personal loss and ended up perched on a chair, crying and trying to pull myself back together so that I could leave the house. Within moments those two pups emerged from their cool spots and came to me. Tasha at my side, looking plaintively up at me. Buddha requiring nothing from me, but lying his body down on my feet, heavily, a "body block" for the world. He didn't look at me, simply took control of my well being. Buddha made friends with me in that moment. He protected me until last Saturday, when he got a final and much deserved rest. He worked so hard at being my comfort and for his last several months he seemed to get younger. He wanted nothing more than to be near, and when I would cuddle with him he would lean back into my arms like he was free-falling into a cloud. If I could have carried that 85 pound old man doggie in a front pack, like a baby for his last few months he would have been SO content. And so would I have been.

Now, my Bu is gone. I'd never had a dog before, never known what it was like to lose one before Buddha left me. I wonder how long before I stop straining to hear his breath in the night and in the morning. Wonder how long before I stop panicking at the lack of shuffle steps in my home. Wonder when I will stop finding pieces of my boy. Dread it, really.

Grief fills the room up of my absent child,
Lies in his bed, walks up and down with me,
Puts on his pretty looks, repeats his words,
Remembers me of all his gracious parts.
Stuffs out his vacant garments with his form;
Then have I reason to be fond of grief?
(King John, W. Shake)

Rest in Peace, my Buddha.