
Buddy is not a thinker of deep thoughts nor is he a dog of great ambition. The only time the Budster gets worked up is when we come home and proceeds to go through spasmodic gyrations of joy mixed with generous helpings of surprise. Even barking, a dog’s natural way of communicating, is done sparingly. He just doesn't bark at anything, and I don’t think he has a lot to say.
Budwinkle is leash trained, of a sort, and when we go on Buddy’s Walk it is not as though he tugs at the leash but rather sits down when tired. He is almost never in front on a walk and if you think that you’re going to get an exercise session walking the Budinski you’d be sadly mistaken. He doesn’t play ball, chase frisbees, run after cars or squirrels, and generally lets life unfold before him unimpeded and unvexed.
His one defect is thunderstorms. He is terrified of them and will do a Paul Revere run constantly through the house, hyperventilating all the way. It’s enough to think of throttling him when it happens in the middle of the night, but storms pass and he gets a hold of himself, eventually. Meantime, we endure.
We think Buddy’s around eight or nine years old but we don’t know for sure. Budwinkle Budinski, the Dog About Town!