Buster, my parents' boxer, died early Christmas Eve morning. We're all devastated, so I wanted to write a little tribute to him. He was only 8 years old, which is young, even for a boxer. He'd been pretty severely abused before coming to my parents. One of his front legs had been broken. Yet he sure showed us love every day of his life.
The reason my dad decided to keep him (he had a 3 day trial) was how protective he was of my kids. Dad was turning The Bub over and over on the bed. Bub was laughing like crazy! It was so cute. Buster thought my dad was hurting Bub, so he got right in between them and barked at my dad. Dad immediately said, "We're keeping him." Since then, Buster has been a lovable, clumsy, sweet, protector. We've all adored him despite his slobbery jowls and slimy kisses.
Two more children have been born since then, and he adopted them right away. I will never forget when we first introduced Sarge to Buster. He sniffed him very carefully, then gave him the most delicate of licks on his forehead. It was so sweet! And for those of you who knew Buster, you'll understand how out of character the word "delicate" is! lol
He will be missed by all of us.
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