Rescue Dog

It's funny how fate sometimes works things out and lays a genuine blessing at your door disguised as a burden you agree to shoulder out of pity. Such was the case with our beloved Bo.

I was at work, checking my emails when a posting on a list I belong to grabbed my attention... "Senior Dog Needs Help Quickly." As I read on, my heart went out to Bo, this elderly pointer/lab mix. He was dumped off by his owner of twelve years at a shelter in Topeka, Kansas, who told the staff that he had to move. Upon viewing this canine's picture I knew he was feeling lost and abandoned, as is far too often the case at shelters. There was little time to act, as the poor fellow was scheduled to be "put down" the following Monday, and it was already Thursday. I immediately telephoned my wife Chris and explained the situation, knowing very well that I could not allow the death of an innocent creature if I could possibly prevent it. I posted the information to the office bulletin board, hoping someone who had a farm or could care for Bo properly would contact me. No one did.

Fortunately, he was given a reprieve, which gave us a bit more time, and after another week or so of emailing with the wonderful lady who had originally posted the notice (and despite the fact that we already had a house full of unwanted cats we'd taken in, many of them handicapped and elderly), I agreed to take Bo myself. At first my intention was to try to find a home for this large dog out in the country, and I had a couple of possibilities in mind. Even though I wanted to keep him from the first, I feared the situation with the cats would not be a pretty one and that the house would be in turmoil even on a temporary basis. After thinking it over, Chris and I decided to at least try keeping our new charge. We reasoned that he was old, like many of the cats, and if they could get along the less moving he would have to endure, and the less stress he would suffer.

Our newfound friend delivered Bo in January of 2004. He was even larger than I had imagined, and the look on our cat's faces when I came through the door with this huge, white animal was one of utter astonishment. They simply had no idea of how to deal with such a thing, and gave Bo plenty of space as he entered his new home. Chris and I both fell in love with this weary, elderly canine, and it didn't take long to see that our newest family member was indeed old and very tired. He was content to eat, sleep, go outside to "do his business", rest, and sleep some more. There were a few initial squabbles among the more established members of the household and the newcomer, but peace was soon found as a mutual respect miraculously manifested. Bo was given his own dog bed, and slept next to our old four-poster. I had to get accustomed to rising in the middle of the night to take him outside, but I didn't mind at all.

As soon as Bo was settled in I took him to our vet, Frank, just to introduce him and have him looked over. I knew he'd been checked at the shelter, but for peace of mind I wanted our own doctor to see him. He told us that Bo seemed fine at this point other than suffering some arthritis, but that his breed rarely lived much past twelve years, and he was almost thirteen by our calculations. "He's a pretty tired old fellow" were Frank's exact words. Of course, when things are going well we always tend to hope for the best and that's what we did in Bo's case, planning to have at least a couple of good years with him.

My parents live next door and took a keen interest in Bo. Dad is almost eighty, so he and Bo already had the fact that they'd seen many years of life in common, and Bo visited on a regular basis.

As the weather began to warm up, Bo showed a reasonable amount of activity.
We'd take him out and let him run and play as much as possible. Whenever our neighbors had their dog out, it was amazing to watch the puppy in Bo return to the surface as his ears perked up and they frolicked together. Bo found a spot in the back yard he loved, right between two young shade trees, so we'd sit out there with him on warm afternoons. He seemed to enjoy the fresh feeling he got after the occasional bath, but looked pathetic standing there covered in suds with his sad eyes peering ahead, waiting to be rinsed. When we were in the house, Bo had his particular spots he'd sprawl out in. If we were sitting on the sofa watching TV, he had to be nearby, right at our feet. He was a good communicator and was always able to let us know what he wanted or needed, often nuzzling my arm in the middle of the night when it was time to go for a walk.

By this time the cats had become quite accustomed to Bo, and though they still gave him plenty of personal space, they had accepted him as one of the family. It was interesting to watch the way Bo interacted differently with each cat. He tended to be impatient with the younger ones, especially when they'd play too closely, and he'd scold them with a low growl. He treated the older cats more as equals, especially our oldest, Barney, who was about twelve and also suffering a little arthritis. If Bo was walking through the house and any of the younger cats ran under him or presented an obstacle, he'd bark a little to shoo them out of the way, but if he saw it was Barney he'd just stop and wait for him to move on his own accord.

It was toward July that Bo began showing signs of serious health problems.
Though he still ate well, he was losing weight and becoming more lethargic, and a blood test indicated his kidneys were beginning to fail. After several trips to the vet and an eventual loss of appetite, Frank began preparing us for the inevitable. "I told you when you brought him in that first day, he's an old dog. I just don't think he has much time left." We did everything possible to make Bo comfortable, including adding a heating pad to his dog bed. Fortunately, as he weakened and had more and more difficulty rising and getting around, he never seemed to be in much pain or discomfort. My wife and I both knew if the time came that we saw Bo was suffering we'd have to make the dreaded consultation with Frank. We spent as much time with him as we could, stroking his large head and telling him how much we loved him. The last few days I fed him what he'd take with a large food syringe, followed by water, as Frank had instructed.

Luckily, the end came quietly. My wife and I both worked, but her job was nearby and she'd come in and check on Bo at least a couple of times through the day. He seemed as well as could be expected that morning, and was resting comfortably on his bed with one of his cat brothers at his side and all his toys and favorite things around him. That afternoon around lunchtime when Chris went in to check on him, she found that Bo had slipped away in his sleep, stretched out across his bed in his favorite position, with no signs of any sort of discomfort at the moment of death. To say we were devastated would be putting it lightly, despite the fact that we clearly saw it coming.

That afternoon we gently wrapped Bo up in his blanket and carried him, bed and all, to his favorite spot between the two shade trees. We had to have a friend come in with a backhoe and dig the grave; then we carefully placed Bo, still on his bed, inside and gave our well wishes, refusing to say "goodbye." We gave thanks that our dear old friend had been at ease throughout his last days and had passed on so gently.

Both our house and my parent's home were sad places for the next few weeks, and Chris and I both continued sitting out near Bo's spot, now his gravesite, in the early evenings. There was an odd sense of his presence that lingered a long time, and even the cats appeared to "see" someone in Bo's old places.

In retrospect, the very animal we took in out of pity ended up enriching and filling our lives beyond anything we would have ever expected, not only Chris and I but my parents as well. Yes, we went through a lot of heartache considering we only had Bo about eight months, but his gentle, trusting personality was so strong it couldn't help leaving such a memorable and cherished mark on all of us, including our cats. I wouldn't take anything for the time we had with Bo, and even to this day we can still sense his presence in many ways. Taking an animal into your life is always a very special thing, but opening your home to one in such dire need as was our Bo is all the more rewarding, knowing that whatever his life may have been during the twelve years before he came to us, the last eight months were certainly happy and content. And for the opportunity given us to know Bo and share his life, we will all be eternally grateful.

Lynn

Back | Return to Index | Next