BUFORD AND BO
Buford and Bo live up the road from me. They are inseparable. You don’t see one without the other. Buford is Bo’s best friend and an old farmer. Bo is Buford’s best friend – a cross between a cocker spaniel and a beagle.
Buford’s wife passed away a few years ago. They both still miss her. Bo sleeps in bed with Buford every night. He is always in Buford’s lap when they sit in the recliner watching television. Bo keeps Buford company as he does chores around the farm.
I see Buford’s truck coming up my driveway with his fishing boat. Buford is in his bib overalls and wearing his red Bass Pro Shops cap, like he always does. Bo has his paws on the dash, looking out the passenger window. He is barking because he is glad to see me. I drop to my knees in the yard, and Bo smothers me with kisses.
These two love crappie fishing. They have come to take me with them. I climb into the passenger seat. Bo sits in my lap, and we leave for their favorite crappie fishing spot.
Buford says, “Bo likes hunting squirrels and rabbits with me. But, what he loves most is going crappie fishing.”
I commented on how special Bo was.
Buford said, “Bo is my angel without wings. He shows me what unconditional love is. Bo is loyal and protective. When I think of my wife, he lifts the spirits of my broken heart and licks my tears away. He is patient and loyal. He does not see my flaws and loves me without judgment.”
I smiled and hugged Bo.
When we turn onto the road to the boat ramp, Bo is excited and starts barking. He knows where we are going. He’s done this many times.
Bo and I sit in the boat while Buford parks the truck. The boat is an old, beat-up aluminum boat. There are no electronics to guide you to a fishing spot or screens to show you where the crappie are. Buford and Bo don’t need them. They know where the crappie will be.
As we motor along the lake, Bo gets excited and starts barking.
Buford says, “He does that when he sees one of our favorite fishing spots. He knows where every one of them is and that we are about to start catching crappie.”
The boat drifts into the cove. Buford turns off the motor and lowers his old tiller trolling motor. Bo is still barking. I think he was telling us he was ready for us to start catching fish.
Buford’s live well is an old cooler with an aerator. Bo is excited when I swing the first crappie into the boat.
Buford says, “Now, you have to let him lick it once before you put it in the bucket. He has to do that with every crappie we catch.”
Many licks later, we both have our limit. We load the boat and start home. Bo is tired from all the crappie lickin’. He is beside me with my hand on him, resting.
Bo is 12 years old. Buford is in his 80s. As we pull into my driveway, I wonder if this was our last crappie fishing trip together. I shake Buford’s hand and hug Bo.
As they leave Bo is looking through the rear window at me. Buford gives me one last wave.
SOMETHING TO THINK ABOUT
“Dogs have a way of finding the people who need them.” ~ Thom Jones, Writer
