POASTTOWN — Maybe it was the pink dot on his forehead.
Or maybe it was the fact that no dachshunds — Walker Rowland’s top choice — were available when he looked for a dog at a Dayton Mall pet store 11 years ago.
Whatever the reason, Rowland was drawn to a golden Labrador retriever. He was about to hold the dog when another family inquired about the retriever for their little girl. When Rowland saw how the girl and the dog bonded, he left the store.
Then, a few days later, still searching for a dog, Rowland returned to the pet store. There, with that same pink dot — probably the result of bumping into a marker — the golden Labrador waited for a home.
“It was meant to be,” Rowland, 54, said Tuesday, Aug. 24, while standing outside his produce stand, which recently closed for the season.
So the friendship formed.
The man and his best friend.
For the next 11 years, Rowland and the dog were inseparable, like Dusty Baker and toothpicks.
Ironically, the dog that Rowland can’t forget went nameless for about two weeks. Then one day, the dog tipped over Rowland’s can of Budweiser and licked up the floor like it was last call.
Bud was one wiser dog.
He frequently tagged along with Rowland to his produce stand and he became a favorite of the customers who were amazed by his appetite for cold watermelon and ears of corn.
He was like some freakish carnival act without the barker.
“He had quite a little following around here,” Rowland said. “They always said, ‘Where’s the dog? Where’s the dog?’ He was happy to see everybody.”
Bud, according to his growing legend, routinely shucked the corn, then chewed the cob until it was “clean as a whistle,” Rowland said.
Rowland said Bud carried an ear of corn in his mouth “like it was a T-bone steak.”
Bud, though, recently became ill, and on Saturday, Rowland, not wanting his dog to suffer, took him to the veterinarian. Bud’s blood work revealed something “very serious,” the vet told Rowland.
Bud was euthanized later that day. As Rowland told of Bud’s final hours — and more importantly, the impact he made the last 11 years — his eyes welled with tears.
“If I cry,” he said, “please excuse me.”
Rowland said Bud learned to ring the doorbell and even open the refrigerator with his nose. He was part prankster, part pet.
He was family.
Rowland called him “one of those once-in-a-lifetime pets.”
As he flipped through some photos of Bud, he added: “He was that for me. I’ll never have another one.”
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