Buddy

        “This is the spot right?”, I muttered as I looked around trying to make out the numbers.  

        “Yeah, the dog ran out of a green house.  I’m sure of it.”  

        Mike and I ran over a dog last weekend.  Or I suppose more accurately I ran over a dog and Mike was sitting in the front seat next to me distracting me with some stupid meme.  The dog died instantly which I guess is the one silver lining.  He didn’t suffer.  His owner sure seemed to though.  The old man let out a wail unlike anything I heard before.  The dog shot out of the house.  Even if Mike wasn’t trying to get me to look at his phone I’m not sure I would have been able to stop in time.  Maybe I would just feel less guilty.  

        Mike and I have both been wracked all week.  I’ve barely been able to sleep.  I just keep seeing the dog lying there, blood on the asphalt.  Playing the guy sobbing and us meekly trying to say how sorry we felt over in my head.  The weirdo didn’t even say anything.  He just picked up the body and carried it back in the house.  He didn’t acknowledge our apologies or nothing.  

        A friend suggested we get him a new dog to replace the one we took away.  I searched shelter and dog rescue websites till I found one that resembled what I remembered his dog looking like.  I convinced Mike to come with me to pick up the replacement pet.  

        The pup panted and looked out the window in the backseat during the whole somber.  He seemed friendly and high spirited so I was hopeful this might just do the trick.  

        “There it is 307”, Mike blurted out.

        I parked along the curb and took a deep breath.  “You ready for this?”

        Mike sighed.  “I guess.  Let’s just get it over with.”

        We got out of the car.  I opened the back door and the canine leaped out.  He was like a kid in a toy store, looking around and sniffing everything.  I couldn’t help but smile.

        I gripped the leash tightly in my hands as Mike and I stared at the home nestled amongst woods.  We looked at each other and nodded.  The walk to the front door seemed like it took forever.  I tried telling myself what’s the worse that could happen.  He slams the door in our faces?  Not like he is going to shoot us over a dog.  Would he?

        With a slight tremble I pushed the door bell.  What seemed like an eternity passed before the door opened.  A lump the size of a cantaloupe formed in my throat at the sight of the man.  He looked at us and then at the dog.  Finally he spoke.  “What do you want?”

        I stumbled over my words.  “I don’t know if you remember us but…”

        “How could I forget”, the man cut me off.

        I was taken aback and stood there in silence and shame.  Mike came to the rescue.  “We feel really bad so we brought you another dog.”

        “Come in for a minute”, was the man’s only reply.

        ‘Oh no!  He is going to kill us.’  I thought for a moment.  But the dog was already pulling me in and before I knew it Mike and I were standing in the man’s living room.  

        The man said nothing but walked over to a book shelf.  I noticed pictures of him and the dog we had killed at various parks displayed throughout his home.  The man came back carrying a scrap book.  He handed it to Mike without saying a word.  We looked at it and then at the man.  He nodded toward the leather bound album.  Mike and I opened the book and began to leaf through the pages.  It had pictures of the dog.  Next to each one was a little paragraph.  Apparently the man was divorced and found the dog while going for a walk eight years ago.  He had been his companion as he rebuilt his life.  They shared a Tastykake every night before bed.  They went on camping and fishing trips together.  He was his only companion over the holidays that first year after the divorce.  They shared turkey on thanksgiving and sat by a fire outback.  

        “You two did a lot together”, I meekly said unsure what other response was appropriate.

        “He was my best friend.  Still is.  The experiences we shared made him that.  I don’t need a replacement because you can’t replace memories.  I still sit with him every night out back on that stump.”  The old man closed his eyes for a moment and continued.  “I’m sure that dog there is a very nice dog but he isn’t Buddy.  That’s who you ran over.  Not just a something but a someone.”

        “So you're not going to take the dog?”, Mike asked.  

        The old man looked at the canine and sighed.  “What will happen to him if I don’t?”

        “I…I don’t know.”

        The old man looked directly into my eyes.  “You feel guilty?  Wish you could undo that day?”

        All I could do was nod.  

       “Then take that pooch into your home.  Love him and let him into your heart and we’ll call it even.  You don’t have to feel guilty anymore.”  The old man then patted the dog’s head and took the scrapbook back from Mike.  “You know the way out.”  The old man then disappeared up the stairs.  

        Mike and I looked at each other.  Mike shrugged.  “Come on”, he said.  “It was a good try.”  We walked glumly back to my car.  When I opened the door the dog hopped into the back seat.  Mike I climbed in up front.  As I went to turn the key in the ignition Mike asked, “You actually going to keep the pup?”  I looked at the house.  I noticed a fire pit in the backyard.  A stump was near it and right next to the stump was a mound of dirt.  

        “Yea”, I answered. “I think I’ll name him Buddy.”