“Buddy wakes up rarin’ to go each morning.  He loves his weekends, and I’d swear he knows it’s Sunday, the day where we go for a Buddy ride, running errands, getting some breakfast out, and making a garage sale or two.” 

At our “Where’s your leash?” question, Buddy runs to the top of the stairs, where he keeps his leash (he chose the spot and we mind him) grabs the leash and runs to his chair for us to fasten it.  Then, he picks up the leash in his mouth, and leads himself downstairs to the front door.  There, he waits impatiently for us older folks to go down the stairs. 

As soon as we get to the front door, he raises up on his hind legs and pauses in air, with the leash in his mouth so we don’t have to bend down to get it from the floor.  See how considerate he is??

The drive of pleasure begins. 

In the warm rear window, he observes all who pass.  If we stop at a light, he looks carefully at the person in the car next to us.  The minute they make eye contact, he barks, telling them to keep their distance.  They always laugh, I don’t think they’re too scared of this little black woofer.

If  we get out of the car, he barks to let everyone know his mom and dad are on the move and they better leave us alone.  As soon as we’re out of sight, he settles down in the rear window and overlooks his domain.  His barking is silent, even when others walk by.   He doesn’t realize we’re on to him. 

His “bravery” is at rest until we appear in the distance; then, once again, when he knows we’ve got his back, he’s furious with the world, keeping all danger at bay. 

At heart, he’s a big chicken.  It’s our little secret.

Buddy the Barker is a faker.  Strangers believe him, but we know the truth.

-Buddy’s Mom, I just live here.