Buday died yesterday. She’s the dog who “adopted” me, and I came to think of her as my step-dog. One of the sweetest animals I’ve had the pleasure of knowing. I’m not sure of her breed, but damn, she could run and jump like a gazelle. So, for the last several months she’s been hanging around my house more and more frequently. One of the subdivision maintenance guys was technically her owner, but it didn’t appear that he ever took any interest in her. Buday would always show up in the morning when it was dog chow time for Buddy and Lucky, so I took to feeding her too. Then she would accompany us on our walk through the neighborhood. She loved playing around with my boys, and they enjoyed her company as well. Sometimes in the afternoon, she would be sleeping on my front porch when I headed out for the evening. She would also be waiting when I came home, hoping I was bringing her scraps like pork chop bones.

I guess it was about a week or so ago I noticed Buday was not her usual self. Not running around and jumping into the bushes. She still did the dog walk thing, but didn’t seem to have much energy or enthusiasm. Most concerning was she had a cough and would throw up frequently. I considered taking her to the vet, but she’s not my dog and I felt weird about that. I told her owner that she seemed sick, he just shrugged and said she was probably pregnant. I guess I thought she would get better on her own, but obviously, I was wrong about that.

When I came home from my walk yesterday I saw Buday laying on the neighbor’s front porch. I’d never seen her do that before and I had a bad feeling about it. I remember my previous dog went off down the street when it was time to die. Found her under a porch. I’ve heard dogs want to be alone when they die. I don’t know, maybe just a coincidence. When I got home last night my downstairs neighbor said Buday was dead–they found her where I had last seen her, on the neighbor’s front porch.

I feel really bad that I didn’t do more to help her. I honestly didn’t think she was going to die or I would have found a way to take her to the vet. I know you can’t save them all, but she was a special dog. My basement neighbors were kind enough to dig a hole in my back yard so we could give her a proper burial at least. It was really sad to walk the dogs today and not see her waiting for us. At least her suffering is over. Rest in Peace, Buday!

I was having a pretty good night out until I came home to the bad news. Only seven people at the darts tournament, so we played singles. Cristy was there, so this would be my opportunity to demonstrate my supremacy (not the white kind, I’m brown now). When we met head-to-head in the first round,, Cristy took the victory in a hard-fought match, sending me to the losers bracket. I was able to claw my way back to the finals where I’d have to beat Cristy in two matches to win the tourney.

I was throwing pretty well, but so was Cristy. Still, I managed to win the first match 2-0, setting us up for the winner-takes-all, do or die, final match. I won the first leg, Cristy took the second. The third and final leg would determine the winner. I won the coin toss and chose cricket, my favorite game. It was a battle and a struggle, I was behind most of the game, but managed to stay within striking range. It came down to Cristy needing one bullseye to win, and me needing three bulls. I stepped up to the line and let my first dart fly–bullseye! I tossed my second dart and it too found its way to the bull. Now, with two darts already in the bullseye, there wasn’t much room for a third. I was also afraid that with my darts not sticking in the board very well (although I did sandpaper them up which helped a lot) I was just as likely to knock one or both of my bulls out as I was to hit another one. On the other hand, if I didn’t hit that third bull now I may never get another chance against a strong opponent like Cristy. So, I mentally shrugged, focused on my target, and went for the bullseye. And by golly, I hit that motherfucker for the win!

After my victory, I decided to reward myself with a nice pork chop dinner at Mango’s. I got there later than usual, around 8 p.m. When my order hadn’t arrived by 8:30, I told the waitress to box it up for takeout. Hell, it was nearly my bedtime and I was tired. And I had a few beers under my belt as well.

So, that’s life in a nutshell I suppose. You experience a high, and then you hit a low. Hopefully, the lows are rare and serve to make the highs all the more satisfying.

Speaking of highs and lows, yesterday also included a hike with the Friday walking group. Scott had an idea about finding a new way up to the Kalaklan ridge, so off we went. We wound up taking a path to the top we had used before, and honestly, it’s about the best way up I know. There’s no easy way, but this trail took a more diagonal route than most, avoiding those steep climbs that are such ass-kickers. The route we took back down, on the other hand, was quite a fucker. I intentionally did not call it a path or a trail because there wasn’t one most of the way. Lots of loose leaves on a steep descent made for some treacherous hiking. We made it though, so there’s that.

Here are some photos from our adventure:

Quite a day, all in all. Gonna take a break from darts today. I think sipping some cold beers on the floating bar may be in my near future. I’ll leave you with this thought:

Well you only need the light when it’s burning low
Only miss the sun when it starts to snow
Only know you love her when you let her go

Only know you’ve been high when you’re feeling low
Only hate the road when you’re missing home
Only know you love her when you let her go
And you let her go

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dT4A3rttrs8