I’ve said that when Buddy was gone, I’d say – “He always tried so hard to be a good boy.” Buddy was a true overcomer who proved his street smarts, agility, protective instincts, and strength time and time again, even as his body was unknowingly being ravaged by cancer. Our constant and curious shadow, he was so eager to please, and so worried that he wasn’t doing the right thing. So awkward, but so loving. He studied everything we did to a point that if he had thumbs, he could’ve done it, as he’d already memorized our moves. He died today – trash day, his favorite day of the week. I was “Trash Man” and he was “Trash Dog”, in a weekly production we played out, and he’d follow me through the house as I collected the trash to go to the bin. He’d watch me from when I got the first trash bag out of the cabinet, until I got back from taking the bin to the curb. He was my trash day supervisor until the end. A very important duty. As with all of our dogs, he was loved on and cared for by not only us, but his grandparents, and the amazing staff at Poplar Animal Hospital. He had a year and a half of a neglected life before us, but we tried to make the last almost eleven years much better than that. I know he was better off with us, and we were better people because of him. I will never stop missing him. Buddy Buckingham Myrick. My Pal. A very good boy who never had to try so hard to be one after all. 

All dogs go to Heaven.