The Golden Life - Part 4

Dorsey and Buffett

Wasting Away in Margaritaville with Buffett

Note: Posted under my name, but Dorsey is the author.

Naming a puppy is an important process. Trying to find just the right name that not only matches the puppy's personality but also has meaning to you, the owner, is a challenge.

My first golden was named after Humphrey Bogart. Bogey was one of my favorite actors and the epitome of "cool." So when it came time to pick a name for our new puppy, we already knew it would be Bogey. He more than lived up to the name.

When Ami came along, we tapped into one of our favorite drinks for inspiration. Amaretto, shortened to Ami for everyday conversation, seemed perfect given the liqueur's rich golden color.

When Bogey died in 1995, I thought for sure it would be a long time before I tried to replace him. The pain just seemed too great.

Vicki, however, talked me into getting another dog just a few months after Bogey died. She thought it was time, or maybe she just hoped a new puppy would take my mind off of Bogey.

There weren't many golden retrievers for sale at the time, but we found a family in Plainview who had a small litter of only two puppies.

There's a lot of thought that goes into getting another puppy after losing a beloved pet. For one thing, we worried about how Ami would respond to a new puppy. Did we really want to go through the "puppy stage" again? Could we afford to go through the "puppy stage" again? What valuables would this puppy chew up?

The one thing I knew, though, was that I was not looking for a replacement for Bogey. We made a conscious decision not to get another red male. Instead, we wanted one at the other color extreme.

In Plainview, we met him.

The owners had told us that both puppies were light in color, but one puppy was almost white, and he was huge! I guess when you only have one other sibling to compete with, there's plenty of momma's milk to be had, and this bruiser didn't appear to be shy about eating at all.

He was a big, giant white fluff ball, and we connected at once. He liked to play and everything in life seemed fun to him. What better name for fun-loving, playful golden retriever than Buffett -- after Jimmy Buffett, of course.

As a lifelong Parrothead, it was an easy decision.

Of course, not everyone made the connection at first. I remember a friend asking me if I had named him after Warren Buffett, the billionaire.

For crying out loud! Who would name a dog after him? Well, I guess technically, we did since Jimmy and Warren are distant relations, but come on …

You might think that following in the paws of such a great dog like Bogey would be an impossible task. After all, how could he measure up?

Buffett didn't have any trouble. From the moment we brought him home, he was a great dog. Unlike my other goldens, he didn't have a propensity to chew up everything in site. He was great with our 2-year-old son, Hart, and he grew into an absolutely beautiful dog. While he always remained light in color, his fur did grow more golden as he got older, and he was huge. From the standpoint of a breed standard, he was too big, but we weren't interested in showing him.

Buffett was there during the most traumatic time of my life when my wife, Vicki, and I divorced. As if divorce isn't devastating enough, we were faced with the decision of splitting up the dogs. Ami had always been more Vicki's dog than mine, and Buffett and I had definitely bonded, but since I had moved into an apartment, I had no place for a large dog, so he stayed with Vicki until I could find a house.

It's hard to understate the therapeutic value of a dog. When your life is falling apart, somehow the ability to bury your face in their fur and cry provides healing and comfort that humans can't really offer each other. Dogs never get tired of listening to you. They will let you hold them as long as you want. They know you are upset, and that upsets them, and they will use every tool in the puppy toolbox to cheer you up. At times, Buffett was my only physical source of comfort. I don't think I would be overstating it to say that dogs are the physical manifestation of God's love -- unconditional and unlimited.

Buffett was an accomplished dog. He was great a playing Frisbee, although his size made him more like a tight end than a wide receiver. He was the most good-natured dog I have ever had. He was so good-natured that we were never able to breed him. He just wasn't aggressive enough.

His biggest accomplishment, though, was winning over Jami, who would later become my wife. A self-avowed cat lover, Jami really didn't like dogs that much, especially big, hairy, shedding, making-a-mess everywhere golden retrievers.



It didn't take her long to submit to his charms, though. He truly was irresistible.

Like many big dogs and golden retrievers in particular, he suffered from hip problems as he got older. It got to where he could barely walk. He would drag his feet until his claws were completely worn down. We bought him some booties to help protect his feet, and we gave him drugs to help ease the pain, but one day, he could no longer get up on his own.

His inability to exercise had caused him to gain even more weight, and at more than 90 pounds, my petite wife couldn't lift him to go outside and do his business, and with my frequent travels, there was no way she could care for him alone.

On Sept. 5, 2005, we were forced to make the tough decision to put him to sleep. I had never had to make that choice before. Bogey had died in my arms, and I believe he spared me that awful decision, but that wasn't to be with Buffett.

I know it was the humane thing -- the right thing -- to do, but it was one of the worst experiences and worst days of my life. He was still the same beautiful loving golden retriever I had grown to love so much, but his body had failed him.

When I looked into his eyes that last time, he looked back with complete trust, and it broke my heart to realize that I was letting him go. I just couldn't bear to be in the room when it happened, but I can still hear the sound of the electric clippers the vet used to prepare a place for the injection. For a long time, I hated that doctor for his insensitivity -- he could have at least waited until we were gone.

For my stepson, Jordie, the traumatic ordeal was made even worse by witnessing my emotional meltdown. He'd never seen me lose control like that before.

Those who don't own pets can't really understand the loss pet lovers suffer when their "child" dies. It is a pain that, in the midst of, I swear I will never put myself through again. Eventually, of course, the pain fades, and we're left with the memories -- the companionship, the love, the laughter. Buffett provided that and so much more. If I could wish one worldly gift for you, it is that you would have a companion like Buffett at least once in your life.

Next: The best Christmas present I ever received