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Tribute To Buddy
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Tribute To Buddy

Dave and Diane Windsor, of CORNWALL, Ontario, Canada told us this True ‘Family Interest’ yet extraordinary story, that will make you cry with wonder and joy at this strange yet wonderful world we live in. 

Our Buddy Story

On February 15, 1998, I received a frantic call from Diane, my wife.  I was in Peterborough visiting my dad.   It was just after the ice storm.  Our toy poodle ‘Buddy’ was missing.  Diane walked six blocks to our downtown mall.  While on her way home, she came upon Duke, our black lab.  Immediately Diane, exasperated because of the sighting of Duke, became alarmed, as Duke was in the kitchen with Buddy our toy poodle when she left the house.   You see, our back storm doors latch was broken and Diane had left the inside kitchen door open. 

It would appear that someone upon examining our back yard for downed trees unlatched our back gate whereby Duke charged out to lick them to death but instead went on his usual escape jaunt towards our downtown mall.   Somehow, Buddy slipped out and proceeded to run off in an opposite direction.

For three weeks, we stapled notices to telephone polls, cried, and called the radio station to report our loss and plea for assistance.  They were kind.   We cried some more. 

An opportunity to talk to Todd Lihou, a city newspaper editor for the local Standard Freeholder Newspaper, presented itself.  Todd sent a reporter to interview Diane over her ‘second’ loss.  It was a touching story. 

You see, Buddy was just as a newborn baby with Diane.  He cuddled, licked, and laid his beautiful head upon her to give the love he could and to receive the loving back that he so rightly deserved.

Diane had purchased Buddy as the ‘runt of the litter’ at a pet store just after her dentist appointment.  They immediately bonded.  Diane because she needed the comfort of a cuddly little fur ball next to her cheek and Buddy, because as the runt, hey, he just wanted out of there. 

I remember the day she brought him home.  I was raking my brain trying to figure out our budget when in walked Diane with this fur ball she had already named Buddy.  “How much did ‘that’ cost?”  was my first comment.

Later a friend had asked me how much my tune-up for the car cost.  My reply was “Oh, about a dog and a half”. 

On March 5 1988, Diane lost another loved one, her beautiful daughter Christine of only 7 years.  The loss of Buddy brought back the pain and devastation any parent would feel at such a tragedy.

The phone calls started after the newspaper picture and article.  The stupid ones like ‘we think we saw your dog.  He was up on the 417 chasing cars’ or ‘I thought he was a rabbit when we hit him, sorry.’ click. 

Then came the big one…..’I think my sister found your dog’.   “Where”, I asked.  ‘Between two houses’ came the evasive reply.

On March 5, 1998, I was driving home alone in the car after a 5 to 9 meeting I attended at work.   I had two very distinct statements said aloud to me “Your dog will be home when you get there”.  The first came at the corner of First and Adolphus Streets.  Then, not as poignant, the second statement, more reassuring came “Your dog will be home when you get there.”  I repeated myself when I said aloud each time, ‘Okay, I’ll believe it when I see it’.

 I say, ‘typical of a nonbeliever, eh!’   NO, I do not have a brain tumor nor am I schizophrenic.  Never before have I heard, nor since, something so dramatic, ‘outside of myself’ such as on that day. 

Carrie, Diane’s older daughter had been praying to Christine to send Buddy back home to his mom.  People do those, even though we all have a direct line, don’t they?

Buddy jumped three feet out of Diane’s arms into mine just as I got to the front stairway landing.  He was frisky.  He was home.  He was alive and well.

You see, a caring young woman picked up Buddy at the corner of Marlborough and Second Streets.  He had a bath and his collar, left by the sink, was yet to go around his neck.

Not having the facility to hold him, she requested her brother in Finch, about 20 kilometers away, to help her out.  We are grateful to them, names since forgotten (we would be thankful for another call), for their love, understanding and enough concern to return Buddy to his rightful owners. 

Buddy was sent back to us by divine intervention,  precisely at 8 pm March 5, 1998, 10  years to the year, day and yes, to the hour, Diane lost her daughter Christine to Chemo therapy for cancer,  March 5th, 1988, at 8 pm in the evening.

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