Sunday Confidential

In Memoriam, Buddy, 1994-2005 (Anticipated)

I'm sorry to say that Buddy, the last living dog from my childhood days, is going to die on Tuesday, December 6. I know this not because I am a psychic who can predict when someone will die. It's because he has an appointment at the vet.

When Buddy was born he was a runt, a small, puny little thing. So shortly after he came home to us, he started eating, and eating, and eating, and he never stopped. He was the fattest dog I've ever seen. But now, because he's old and sick, he's all skinny. Poor guy.

Buddy was the third dog we got, after Casey, a wheaten terrier, Blossom, a black and tan coonhound, and then Buddy was a coonhound too. They all lived long lives, and over the last two years, they've all died peacefully. Now we have three new dogs, including a brand new little puppy. They're wonderful, and I'll miss Buddy, but I know he'll be happy at that big food bowl in the sky.