I am great at remembering dates and numbers. I know obscure dates, phones numbers from my childhood, even most of my account numbers and credit card numbers. Today I realized I forgot Buddy’s Birthday. It was his birthday last August 28th, and I forgot.
It’s pretty hard for me to forget Buddy. At night, in our bed with my wife and me are always out three pups, our cat, and of course, Buddy. Buddy sleeps on my side though, and he does get me uncomfortable at times, jammed right up against my chest as he does. I just turn onto my other side and then I don’t really notice he’s there. I shouldn’t complain though. Buddy is a faithful friend. He’s quiet, doesn’t ask for anything, and in return he takes care of me, looks out for me, and is always thinking of me. Just me.
I can’t tell you much about Buddy except the basics, but Buddy can tell you a hell of a lot about me. He knows my every move. He is always on the lookout for me. When I go hiking, he’s at my side when I get to the top of an incline, and I am out of breath, and my heart starts racing, he’s right there waiting, watching me to make sure that I am okay, just waiting for the sign to burst into action in case I pass out or something. I never have, so he never acted. But he will if he has to.
Buddy says he is going to be my friend for life, and he will. I know it. But who’s life? Mine or his? I plan to outlive the little sucker, that’s for sure. I know, that sounds terrible, but the truth of the matter is, when it’s Buddy’s time to say goodbye, I hope it’s only because his time was up, and not because he tried to save me. That would hurt. A lot. And I don’t want that, ever. I don’t ever want Buddy to ever have the necessity to spring into action on my behalf and save me, because he will, and that would probably mean the end of Buddy sooner that expected. The fact of the matter is that if Buddy needs to act, I’m in shit street.
Although I forgot his birthday last moth, he doesn’t mind. In fact, the fact that I forgot his birthday is a good thing. It means I took time out to think of nothing but me and my vacation with my wife. So Buddy should be happy too. This is Buddy’s fourth birthday, and his life expectancy is ten years. I still have another six birthdays to say Happy Birthday, and when Buddy does go, I will get another Buddy. I will have to. And then I hope I out live that Buddy too, and the next, and the next, and the next. By that time, they would probably develop an implantable defibrillator with a 100 year battery life.