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him. He was just too damn cute. He would always win the wrestling match though. H e was already way too strong.
    To add to Buddy’s extra long list of favorite things to steal , scrunchies is probably number one . He has an inexplicable, strong obsession with these things. Without fail, h e c an find the scrunchy in any girl ’ s hair and gently but expediently pull it out.
    I’d see him actually eyeing my head to see if I was wearing one , or if I was on the floor he would make his move to smell my hair and then make his next move to steal.
    Various times I ha d tried to turn the tables on him and wrap my scrunchy around his snout, but this just made it more entertaining for him. He would always win. He would run off barking and then eventually come back with the scrunchy in his mouth as if to say , “ S ee, you can’t outwit me!” He was absolutely right.
    There were m any mornings when I wore my hair tied up in a scrunchy and foolishly bent down to pick something up, tie my shoe , or get something out of a cabinet. Sure enough, before I could get up in time, there was Buddy ripping the scrunchy out of my hair . It amazed me that he could do so without so much as pulling a hair out of my head .
    This pilfering also led to a chase throughout the house: up the stairs, around the dining room table, over the couches, around the coffee table. Anywhere was free game. It was normally entertaining , but when you we re late for work or an appointment, it became highly irritating. He did not care one bit. To him, this was considered a great time .
    My young niece, who I think was maybe six years old at the time, was utterly terrified of Buddy. She had come over one day for a family party dressed adorably and wearing a bright purple scrunchy in her hair. We were all enjoying the beautiful summer day and eating lunch in the backyard.
    I noticed her running and crying with a look of pure terror in her eyes. I did not realize exactly why she was running until she kept s creaming that Buddy was trying to eat her head. It took only a second for me to understand. H is one desire at that point in time was the bright, enticing scrunchy. He was in the zone, chasing her all over the backyard for this brilliant toy that he assumed was rightfully his. It was at this point that I realized I w ould never be able to fully explain Buddy’s behavior.
    It was situations such as this that kept us laughing and in good spirits. Since the day we brought him home, h e had been a hilarious clown. The key to handling Buddy was to be a wise-ass right back. It seemed when we started in with him play-fighting, chasing him , or even dressing him up, he found it to be hysterical.
    Some people did not feel the same way, and v isits from family and friends were often somewhat stressful depending on the patience threshold of the people visiting. In most of the books that we had read, they explained not to lock up the dog when company came over. This would only make the dog behave worse, associating company with something bad: solitude.
    If the person visiting had a love for big dogs, coupled with no fear, he or she stood a chance of surviving the day . That person might only get jumped on once or twice , and maybe a little drool would adhere to his or her clothes.
    If the person did not really like dogs, or exhibited any hint of fear, th at person did not have a prayer. It was a nightmare for everyone involved, except , of course, for Buddy. He would sense the person’s uneasiness from the second he or she walked through the door and make it a point to torture that person for the entire day. He might relax for a little while and then jump up from a seemingly deep sleep , only to focus on that one fearful individual the entire time.
    When I say “ jump, ” I do not mean the occasional hop. I mean a full-fledged jump in the person’s lap, kiss his or her face, and put his paws on the person’s shoulders to try and dominate type of jump. If he or she were