Musings and a Basset Hound

Musings and a Basset Hound

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I don’t know how dogs made the journey from a derogatory slur in the Old Testament (Goliath, for instance, called David a dog) to becoming more than just a pet, wrapping our hearts around their little or enormous paws. But they did. And with that biblical allusion out of the way I can now move to my true subject.

Buford Hercules Pemberton came into my life not longer after I moved to Abilene from Oklahoma Christian. By the time he came along I had already lost my first basset hound, Beauregard Horatio, to cancer and would lose my second, Bailey Hobart to the same disease before Buford turned two. So for most of my life in Abilene, Buford has been at my side – usually begging for food, rolling over and digging with his front paws into the air (his command for “scratch my belly”), or sitting with serene composure looking out at his world.

Buford playing on the floor

Through my surgeries and recovery, Buford was there. During my divorce, he was there. He made special friends with my sister, Margie, and totally won over Dana’s “I’m not a dog person” heart. When we moved in with her parents Buford came too, forging a special bond with Retha and Ken before his passing (one year ago this week), sitting at his feet whenever he was alone - until someone else came home. Then and only then would he surrender his duty to them. He was more than a little spoiled, with five different dog beds to choose from: one in our room, one in my study, one in Ken and Retha’s room, one in the shop, and a Serta bed in the den. He loved his food, learned to flop his ear over his eyes to keep out the light when he napped, bayed when he dreamed, developed a fetish for trash cans late in life, and knew how to sit and how to play dead on command (please note, I didn’t say he always obeyed, but he did know what we wanted). He had paws the size of a small horse, long ears that stayed dirty on the end, and a “weight challenge” that caused his belly to get cold and wet when it snowed. Gentle to a fault. Patient at all times. Faithful to the end.

I miss my friend.

Buford Hercules Pemberton (July 8, 2008 – March 3, 2017)

*Editor’s Note, Oct. 4, 2018: The layout and location of content have changed since moving from Charis to Mosaic.

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