Buddy is a 14-year-old, 28 pounds, red-haired, miniature Australian Shephard with diabetes, glaucoma, and an anxiety disorder. We worried about traveling, moving onboard a boat, and how he would adapt. He is a dog of routine, the same things, in the same order, by the same person. His vision is mostly gone; he requires twice daily insulin, which must be continuously refrigerated, a special prescription diet, and lots of love.
We came to know Buddy through our work with the Australian Shephard rescue. We went to pick him and his sister up in Indiana; a family had purchased them for their two children. With the parents working long hours and the kids losing interest, the dogs were not in ideal conditions. The parents quickly realized it was not best for the dogs, did the right thing, and contacted the rescue. When we got Buddy, he was scared of everything-brooms, hangers, people, vacuum; he would get car sick. When three adoptions fell through, and we discovered he needed two knee surgeries, you know what happened. My gullible and soft heart won over my pragmatic; we don’t need a third dog mind.
And so, Buddy became a much-loved part of the family. The last dog we have left and a blessed one indeed. Now what to do with him when we travel the Great Loop? We started by doing a two-week trial with Buddy and us on the boat. I read up on what to do for Buddy’s bathroom needs. We purchased the green “pee pad” for the transom. We got a doggy lifejacket and all his supplies. We discussed it with the vet, brought his special anxiety meds, and headed out. The first few days were difficult. We found we had to carry him downstairs, they were too slick for him, and he was scared. He remained glued to my side. By day 2-3, he started to get more comfortable and courageous.
We had to make some accommodations for him; nonskid on all the stairs, a dedicated doggy bed spot, a gate to keep him on the flybridge. At the end of the two weeks, we had our answer: he was a champ. He took a right to the “pee pad” for his needs when we couldn’t get on to the shore. He found his food, bed, and was finally able to navigate stairs. He was no longer scared, could walk around the outside of the boat with his lifejacket by himself. He loved to lay outside and smell the air; he found joy.
Now we had work to do. His medication and food required a vet prescription and were typically ordered and picked up at the vet office. As we talked this over with the vet, she said, no problem, I will write the scripts, and you can order and have it delivered through Chewy. We made sure the refrigerator worked even when at anchor, found storage for the large bags of food, and discuss used insulin needle disposal.
Ninety days in, and all is well. We order Buddy’s insulin, needles, and food through Chewy and ship it to a marina. It typically comes within a day. He has adapted to wearing the lifejacket when outside the boat cabin and has learned the travel routine. We try to bring him with us whenever possible, and just as at home, he struggles with being left alone. You can hear him singing the blues in our absence and see the excitement when we return. And most importantly, he still finds joy in our presence, smelling the air, going for walks, and getting petted by people. A good life indeed.
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