Saying goodbye to Bo
It is so hard to say goodbye. We said a hard goodbye to our sweet, beloved Bo this summer. He died suddenly on us and the regrets came fast and furious. What did I miss? Why hadn’t I checked on him sooner? Why didn’t I pet him more that day? And every day before? Letting go of that regret has been a daily practice, and slowly but surely the fond and happy memories come flooding back in.
He was a special guy. From the first day we got him, when he puked in my hands in the car ride from the rescue. He was the runt of a litter of ten puppies born on a farm in Southern Ontario. Black Lab, Border Collie and Blue Heeler- we were told. He was certainly shy, hiding behind his rambunctious sisters in the kennel- but his sweet demeanour won us over instantly. This was also the day we got evicted from our apartment, as our landlady threw a fit over our new addition and yelled through the phone “THAT HER SON WAS MOVING IN” before banging the phone down. (The oldest Toronto rental trick in the book and a time of landlines.) We may have lost our sweet pad that day but we certainly gained a sweet new friend.
I was working at a vet clinic in Toronto and he would come to work with me everyday. In the beginning his sad howls from the kennels were so terrible we had to put him in the isolation unit in the basement, (traumatic I know but having a sad howler in a vet clinic doesn’t read well), and from there his sad howls just haunted the entire building. Eventually he got that it wasn’t the end of the world, and graduated to full upstairs access, lounging on the couch and being friends with everyone.
He became my constant companion and sidekick. I always said I wanted a dog who would wait outside a shop for me and stare intently inside, with eyes for no one else- and that’s what I got. He tapped into that Border Collie and herded us all for years. He struggled through adjusting to children, but eventually took them under his wing too.
It’s funny how a dog integrates into your life so much- there is so much language we don’t use anymore, and so many movements in the day that are no longer needed. The constant opening and closing of doors, the filling of the water, no more greetings and saying goodbye at the door when no one else is home. No one cares when I see a squirrel anymore.
For the first few weeks I got excited at the sound of a small jingle- my brain thinking it was his collar and that the whole nightmare was just a joke- ‘Surprise! I came back!’ - but then having to grieve again realizing that it was not a joke, it was not a collar, it was not the sound of nails on floor. There are other sounds too- the way he lapped his water in threes- sip sip sip, sip sip sip, and the old man licking of lips in the night. I miss watching him run like a pacer- a gait between trot and canter- where his hind leg and foreleg on each side went together. I have yet to see another dog run like that.
Bo had lately started going on adventures on his own, leaving the yard to go eat garbage, or even better- to go swimming in the lake in the neighbours backyard! He gave us a few scares when he left like that, and turned on his selective hearing. But I needn’t have worried- he only had eyes for us, and whenever anyone tried to pet him he would duck his head out of the way unless there was total trust. I always worried that someone would pick him up and take him home, but there was no way he would go with anyone else. A few times we had friends come over to let him out during long stretches at home, and the feedback was always “He was very reluctant to come with me, but we did it”.
In the last few years of covid lockdowns he made friends with a man who would regularly bike by, we called him “Bo’s friend”. He is a kind old man who bikes with a peaky hat and a cigar, and Bo would run out to great him and get a treat. I started wondering if this man was an angel, he only wanted to see Bo, I never caught his name, and I haven’t seen him since Bo left us.
I had a dream lately that I was meeting a friend and telling her that my dog had died, and she said “but who is this?”, and it was a Bo sized dog who stuck with me in spirit, he walked with me like a hologram, and I said “oh well this is a dog, and he is always here with me”. That brings me comfort but nothing is better than the real thing.
I miss you my sweet Bo. Thanks for being the best dog and companion and friend for ten amazing years. I’ll let you go run free now.
To dogs!
