Golden Retriever. Name of Buddy. Consider this a Jersey elegy. All Jersey music for a Jersey Golden boy. He’s fourteen now.

Knew him from puppyhood. He was our grandpuppy. When he looked like this.

It’s still the same old story. Got him to teach the daughter responsibility. Daughter doesn’t want the responsibility. Mama takes over.

Funny thing. Mama is energized by his vitality, intelligence, and unconditional affection.

They seemed to know each other, wordlessly

There is bonding. She loves him. He loves her. She insisted when she got married on having him in her wedding pictures. Because he was every bit as important as the Best Man and the father of of the groom. He was her dog.

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=08jyOwx96Ig

Then comes the Golden Age of the Golden. There is a rhythm to his partaking of life. He is the star of family gatherings, in constant motion, greeting his many friends and playing with all the children, and looking for a chance at the shrimp on the table, and greeting everyone again, and never obnoxious, but always close and loving and the friendliest of boys. He seemed to have a unique relationship with everyone. I believed I was the only one who worried about his propensity for chewing stones from the garden. He put up with my worry and then returned to his habit when I was otherwise engaged. Rocks, shrimp, it’s all good, right, Grandpa?

Life IS a cabaret, old chum.

He was great at hurtling hither and yon, front yard, long back yard, see the kids, kiss the old ladies, and then leaning against you in intimacy. “You don’t want that last deviled egg, do you? I can eat a hot dog faster than you, wanna see?” And then off again to visit absolutely everyone at the party. But he always gave you a lavish hello and an equally lavish goodbye, tail wagging and “Please do come back again soon.”

But time passes and then comes the diminuendo.

Still anxious to say hello, but it’s slower, takes some time, though the rhythm of human interaction is still spot on. A tail wag in place of a determined insistent hug. He was getting older, though he still had a sense and fondness about the kids. And you.

It’s hard getting old. We still love each other, but it’s harder to lick people’s faces. From the floor.

Then comes the long goodbye, sorrowful on both sides.

I love this version of an ultimate Jersey Boy song. All voices singing the same tune. Buddy had so many friends, and all would sing the same song about him. And we will never leave him behind.

And now it is done. A sacred farewell from yet another Jersey voice. Toms River, I think. One of the greatest mezzo sopranos in the world. We look after our own.

Never been comfortable with the greyhound meme of the Rainbow Bridge. I prefer the idea of the shore of a new, next life. Where Buddy is now. Sitting with Sue. His mama.