Buddy Burns

It was at the beginning of the summer when my mother approached me with a flyer about foster dogs. I was skeptical, to say the least. After all, it had only been six or seven months since the passing of our dog Shadow. I wasn't sure if I was ready for a new addition to the family, even if it was only temporary.

But my mother persisted, and after a lengthy internet application, a couple of phone calls, and a home visit done by a cheerful aide, we were approved. Now all we had to do was cruise the corporation's social media pages to find our match.

It had been a couple days since our approval went through, and I was idly scrolling through Facebook on my phone. This is what I saw.

Our past dog was a golden retriever, so I knew this was a match that my mom would really like. I called her over, and she immediately fell in love. We were able to get Buddy as a foster dog about three weeks ago. My first impression of Buddy was that he was quiet, seeming much older than the four years that were indicated on his file. He had come from a shelter in Tennessee, and he was known to have aggression towards other dogs.

During one of his first few days I was sitting on the ground next to him and my thumb grazed over one of his paws. Buddy growled at my touch, yanking his paws back and retreating to a different corner of the room I was perplexed, but my mom reminded me that he was sensitive towards his paws and his tail.

"He's scared,"she cautioned. "Be careful when you're playing with him."

I didn't have another altercation with Buddy till a couple days later. I was walking him on a street near my house, and he had stopped to sniff a collection of plants. All of a sudden a car whizzed by, and the passenger's seat had a Rottweiler with its head hanging out of the window. Buddy erupted into growls and dove at the car.

"Buddy no!" I yelped, fumbling with the leash. The car passed us, but Buddy kept growling until it was finally out of sight. Exasperated, I tugged at the leash and he eventually walked on.

"I bet he was put in a competitive environment with other dogs,"my dad theorized over dinner that night.

"Like dog fights?" my little cousin asked.

"It's more likely that they all had to fight over food," my dad said.

"That makes sense," my mom replied.

We had all noticed how Buddy appeared to scarf down his food in a matter of seconds. It was like he was afraid it would disappear.

"Can we keep him?" I asked my mom. She rolled her eyes, but a smile was spreading across her face.

"We'll see."

Another week passed by and I could slowly see Buddy becoming a part of the family. My dad had grumbled the most at the idea of having another dog around, but I knew even he was enjoying himself. My mom began referring to Buddy as her best friend. I loved that because she had someone else to take on her morning run! All was well until we received a call from Buddy's adoption coordinator. She wanted to tell us about a meet-and-greet that was taking place on Sunday. If all went well, we would match Buddy to his forever family.

"Maybe we could," my mom began, making eye contact with my dad from across the table. He groaned, but shrugged one shoulder. That was his way of indicating that he was okay with it.

"He's passed the puppy stage,"I coaxed.

"Yeah, it's just his complete hatred of all other dogs,"my dad said sarcastically.

We made a call to his adoption coordinator the very next day.

Buddy was home.