The next day, a bright Monday in June, I went to Maryland, taking along a pouch of kitty Tender Vittles to use as treats. As soon as I saw this big, bulky bear I knew I wanted him. He was a big boy and friendly. The shelter put him on a leash and let me take him for a walk outside, away from all the barking dogs inside the kennel. We walked side by side. He did very well on the leash, and I talked to him constantly. He paid attention. He looked at me attentively. After a while, I sat beneath a shade tree and asked him to sit. He did. And got a treat. I asked him to lie down. He did. And got another treat. He didn't mind that the treats were tiny. We sat in the shade for quite a while just talking, and I petted him, scratched his ears and his tummy. Then I took him back inside and said, "I definitely want him."
The next step was the home visit. The next day a very nice woman named Addie came from the rescue group to my house to see me and to see where Bo would live. She saw my fenced-in back yard and met my two cats, Gray Cat and Hei Mao. She was very nice and friendly, and as she left she said I would hear from her soon. She called within a few hours with the good news. The cats and I had passed inspection! Bo was going to come to live with us as soon as I could go and pick him up.
I went the very next day back to Rockville and paid the adoption fee and took my big, beautiful bear of a dog into the backseat of my Jetta and headed back for the District. At one point, Bo became frightened of something, whimpered, and squeezed himself between the two front seats and repositioned himself in the passenger side front seat, resting one paw on my leg. I had been told that he had been a K-9 flunk out. He'd gone through two years of training, but then washed out. I thought I was seeing a hint of why. He was easily spooked. Did I care? Not at all. He had the benefit of excellent obedience training and was a pleasure to be around. He was so well-behaved, you could take him anywhere. But I was to learn that he hated the Fourth of July.
Bo and I walked in our neighborhood several times a day. There was a dog park a block from my house, and we went there sometimes, but mostly we walked together. When asked to, Bo could do a perfect Heel, but usually we just walked casually side by side, he with his shoulders about even with my legs. He was big and solid black and lots of people were intimidated by him until they learned that he was gentle as a lamb. All the little dogs at the dog park had barking fits whenever we went into the park, and one day a little yip yip dog called Barnaby actually bit him. From then on we stayed out of the park unless we had it to ourselves. Bo hated all the the fuss made over him, and he was shocked when Barnaby attacked him. But there were 4 or 5 parks in my neighborhood in Washington, so there was a lot of great walking space.
Bo and I bonded very quickly. I think his getting scared on the drive home and forcing his way into the front seat with me helped that to happen. When I had had Bo two weeks, my friend Richard came to visit. We took a walk to the Korean corner grocery near the dog park. Richard held Bo's leash while I ran inside and picked up a few basics. When I came out of the grocery, Richard said, "There is no doubt whose dog he is. He never took his eye off of the door you disappeared into the whole time you were gone." Bo was like that. He really loved me. I finally had a dog like the dog stories and television shows I had grown up with. Bo was my Lassie, my Rin Tin Tin, my Bullet. In the winter, sometimes I took him to the University with me and he waited in the car while I taught my classes. He'd rather go and wait in the car than to be left at home without me. When my mom would visit, she told me he would watch the door for me to return from work all day.
At first my cats were afraid of Bo, but that did not last long. In no time at all, Gray Cat was sneaking up to Bo's bowl and stealing pieces of dog food and standing upright on his back legs punching Bo in the face with his hands. I mean, paws. But Bo's head was so large that the punches didn't faze him, and he just sat with his tongue hanging out looking happy and let the cat steal his food and beat on him. He hardly felt it.
I planted a beautiful flower garden in the back yard of my home and placed a curving walk of pea gravel lined by old brick down from one end to the other. Bo would not walk on the pea gravel. This meant he could not get to the part of the yard at the back, behind the trees, that was Bo's bathroom. So he walked through the flowers very close to the fence on the left side of the garden and of course he wore a trail. I covered his path with pavers to keep down the mud and just let him have that part of the garden. Now that he is gone and I no longer live in that house, the pictures that show Bo's path through the flowers mean the most to me.
Bo didn't sleep on my bed but he slept on the floor right beside me. Sometimes I liked to sleep in the guest room, and Bo would follow me there. He was wherever I was. But one day, when I had had him almost four years he didn't get up to go anywhere with me. I knew he was very sick. I took him to the vet, who diagnosed a virus, and sent us home with some meds. But Bo got weaker and weaker. So I called Friendship in Northwest Washington and described his symptoms and they said to bring him right in. I did. Parking was on the ground floor and there was no elevator up to where the offices were. It took Bo and me a long time to make it up the steps. He was so weak. He'd walk a few steps and pause and I could tell he was doing it for me. That's how much he loved me. When we reached the top, the waiting room, he collapsed. When the vet called us back, Bo got up one more time and walked to the examining room. They checked him in. He was seriously ill.
They kept Bo, and I went home alone, to be comforted by Gray Cat, the most affectionate cat and the cat with the most personality that I've ever met, but I was difficult to comfort. The hospital kept calling every few hours wanting permission to do more tests. I kept saying yes, of course I did. After a day of this, my mother in North Carolina spoke to a vet in my hometown. This wonderful man call Bo's vet in DC and got all the medical information on him, and then he called me. "Dr. Massey," he said, "These numbers are incompatible with life." Bo had complete renal failure, and there was nothing that could be done.
I knew then that I had to help Bo on his way, so I went the next morning in sleet and snow to the vet's to put down my precious friend. When I walked into the vet's office and spoke, I saw Bo raise his head, and I knew he still recognized my voice and that he knew I was there. I went to him. He was bloated and swollen, but yes he knew me. I talked to him nonstop and he met my eyes. After a while a vet came over and asked me if I was ready. I said yes. I sat on my knees beside Bo, and I held his big, black head in my left hand and caressed him with my right hand. I talked continuously, saying Bo's favorite phrases, like "Good Boy" and "That's my Bo" and "Wanna treat?" I continued talking and caressing him until the vet told me, "It's okay now. He's gone." I wanted to talk him out of this world, telling him I loved him. And I did. I wanted to be the last thing he saw and heard and felt, and I was.
I stayed with him after he was gone for quite some time, just stroking his fur. Then I stood up. Somehow I managed to go to the front desk and pay my bill and take the subway back home. Somehow I went to work the next day. And the next. But I sold that house. I couldn't live there without Bo. I've had and lost a lot of pets in my 63 years, but nothing has hurt like losing Bo. I felt so alone. It hurt so badly. But I would not trade one minute that I shared with that noble canine to avoid the pain.
And I went on to love another dog, another two dogs, my precious Duke and Gretta, the famous Grettalulu. Now the years have gone by, and Duke and Gretta have passed away, too, and yet I've given my heart to another dog. Miss Kia, my Great Pyrenees, the first dog I've had that wasn't a German Shepherd, and I love Kia very much. And someday I will add another German Shepherd to our family, maybe a black one, maybe an entirely different type. Kia is very sweet, very loving, very mild mannered, a good inside dog, like Bo. Duke and Gretta needed that fenced yard we had in Boone, NC. But Kia needs only a couple of nice walks a day, and she is healthy and happy.
About ten days after Bo died, my doorbell in DC rang. I went to the door. A man stood there with a beautiful carved wooden box with a white ribbon and a white rose. He said to me, "I've come to bring Bo home." It was his ashes. You could tell Gray Cat knew it was him. He's still here, now in NC, still on the dresser in my bedroom. Bo will be with me always.
NOTE: The pictures are not all of Bo; some are from the web, but those look completely, totally, exactly like him.
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