by Amber Martin
I got the call early Sunday morning, "Brandy had her puppies, come over quickly!" My boyfriend called me, I'd been the most excited waiting for those puppies to come. The moment that I saw them I had my favorite picked out. A brown little pup with dark points. There was a certain, I don't know what, about him, and right there, he got his name. Buffalo. Everyone always laughed when they asked his name. I always thought it suited him in a strange way. I would always play with the puppies any spare moment I had. Buffalo was always the first to greet me. Once they were big enough to go to new homes, they all left one by one. I didn't have much time to beg my parents for a pup, but I had it done when it was only down to Buffalo and his brother, (a runt that looked like a rotty, although he was the cuddliest thing you'd ever meet. We named him Bear as a temporary nickname.) Bear hung around for a long time, but soon enough he was gone as well. I couldn't take Buffalo to my own house, we weren't allowed any pets. So my boyfriend agreed to keep him at his house, as long as I fed him myself. I thought it was a great deal, although I wouldn't see him as much as I'd like to. But at least I knew he was mine.
Over the months he began to get really big. He was only 2 months old and yet he was as big as his chow chow/lab mother. His attitude was teriffic. He loved to cuddle with you on the couch, although he knew he wasn't allowed up. He loved to play his little game, which was I'd slam my hands on the floor and he'd bark at my hands and try to nip at my fingers. He was the sweetest thing you could meet.
All of a sudden one day my boyfriends sister (who lives with him) came up to me at school and says "oh yeah, I was supposed to tell you, your dog's sick." I thought maybe he just ate something that didn't agree with his stomach. But I found out different when I went over to see if he was alright. As I got out of the truck and walked over to him, he wagged his tail twice ever so lightly. I knew then and there that he was really badly sick. My boyfriend told me that he hasn't eaten or drank anything all day, and he just laid outside, got up to poop, pee and puke and that was it. He didn't even need to be chained up, he didn't make an effort to leave the yard, much less his spot. I sat with him outside for a good 2 hours, almost afraid to touch him. I couldn't keep myself from crying. I had to go home, but I promised Buffalo that I'd be back. I hated to leave him there, alone. As soon as I walked in the door of my house, I started crying. I knew he was really sick and I didn't know what I was going to do. Once my mother came home from work we grabbed a blanket and brought him home. I was so afraid to lift him. Not knowing what the problem was. He didn't wimper or whine. He just looked at me with trust in his eyes. Once we had him home, we tried to get him to drink some water. But he refused to open his mouth. I put some water on my finger and put it in his mouth, hoping that would help. But when I pulled my finger out, it was covered in a sticky, thick liquid. I didn't know what it was. I took him downstairs to my room where I would stay up with him all night and take him to the vet in the morning, I had decided this after my calls to the after hours vet were no help. I laid with him for a long time. He couldn't put his head down. Everytime he did, it'd shoot right back up. As if he was choking on something. I figured that he hadn't slept all day because of this. I petted him and he always tried to move away. So I let him be for a while. Then he threw up. I saw what I thought was an elastic band in his vomit. But I knew I was wrong when I saw it wrigling around. He had thrown up worms in a mucos membrane sac. I didn't know what to do, my mother came down and put the vomit in a case to take to the vets the next day. Then he had a bowel movement, althought that's not what I'd call it. It was probably about 80% blood and 20% fecal matter. I caught most of this in a bowl which I then covered and added to the vomit to take to the vets. Eventually I grew tired and so did Buffalo. He got up from his blanket and crept over to the side of my bed and got as close to me as he could. Then we both fell asleep. Although Buffalo wasn't asleep, he'd gone into a coma, as I believe. His eyes were wide open but he was obviously asleep. I awoke about 3:00 am to him breathing really strangely. I freaked out and called my mother, she came down and we petted him, trying to wake him, but it was no use, we sat there as his legs stretched out and he took his last breath. I freaked out again, "Mom, why isn't he breathing?" She shook him some more, but I knew he was gone, already tears were streaming down my face. My mom cried out "He wasn't supposed to die!" Everyone loved Buffalo just as much as I did.
My mother and I sat and cried for a good 3 hours before we slowed down. I looked at my calendar. Valentines Day. Which would also be Buffalo's 3 month birthday. I told my mother about the day and we started crying again. Eventually my mother went to move Buffalo from where he had died, worms were just spilling out of his mouth. My mom told me to come and look, I couldn't bare to see it. We covered Buffalo in a couple of blankets and then put him into a box, and set him on the back porch for the night.
I coudln't sleep at all, I just sat on the couch, gripping his collar wondering why him? Questions flooded my head. He had just been to the vet 4 days before he died...but she didn't deworm him. How did he get the worms? He was never fed anything other than dog food, as far as I know. Why did he take Buffalo he was well fed, well loved and had been to the vet when supposed to be. Yet my boyfriends other dogs had never been to the vet and are poorly treated, and yet they're still alive. I hated the thought that he was gone and there was nothing I could do. Nothing but "WHY" was in my head. I wrote letter after letter to God asking him, "Can I please have my miracle now?" But I never got it.
My mother took Buffalo's body and the vomit and feces samples to the vets the next morning. She asked if I wanted to go, I said no, I couldn't bare to see them pull his body out of that box again. She came home with no answers, after seeing both of the vets. So she tried some research on the internet and we found out it was roundworm. As we know, with roundworm, they live in the animals lungs, when the animal coughs them up, they get into the intestine where they feed on the organs. We figure that Buffalo died because he couldn't put his head down for long, and when he fell asleep (or went into a coma) he coudln't breathe, the worms just flooded his throat, so we figured that he had just suffocated to death. My aunt called in the morning to see how he was doing, I told her the bad news, she was devistated, everyone I told was devistated. No one saw it coming, he got sick the day that he died. I just hope it wasn't my fault, or something that I could have prevented.
Today it's been a bit over 3 months since he died. I think about how he'd be if he was still with me. He'd be awfuly big by now. But more than likely sweet as ever. I'm still coping with my loss. I have my little shrine of his toys,(the ones that he didn't have chewed to peices), pictures and candles. I miss my puppy so much. But he'll always be remembered.
I know that I'll see him again, and I know he'll always be with me. I'll meet you on the rainbow bridge buffalo. Don't forget me.