Farewell, Bobo

As some of you may know, we lost our beloved Boston Terrier, Bobo, in February of 2017. As of this writing it’s still pretty fresh and raw.

I want to tell Bobo’s story. I want to honor his amazing life, and share the immeasurable impact he’s had on me and my wife.

FOREBODING SIGNS

On January 31st, I took Bobo to the vet for some strange symptoms. He was cold, lethargic, drinking profusely, not eating, and having accidents in the house.

I know from teaching the Pet CPR and First Aid classes that a dog’s normal temperature is 100.3º to 102.5º; Bobo’s temperature was only 96º. I also know that the typical breathing rate for a dog is 10 to 30 breaths per minute. When I took him to the vet it was 44 bpm.

An X-ray showed a ton of fluid around his heart, which was beyond what my vet could handle. We ran him immediately up to Cornell Companion Animal Hospital, 45 minutes away in Ithaca.

There, they tapped and drained the fluid to stabilize him. They drained 150 ml from his pericardium (the sac surrounding his heart). Further investigation found evidence of Hemangiosarcoma, a super-aggressive cancer of the blood vessels. To give you an idea how aggressive: he’d had all of his senior panels at the vet only four months ago and got a clean bill of health. Once it started, it moved very quickly.

Now, he had a bleeding tumor on his heart that was leaking into his pericardium. Ultrasound showed the mass was about the size of a peach pit. This was why he was lethargic and cold: his circulation was practically nonexistent.

The oncologist explained that it was likely, at this stage, already invading his spleen, liver, and lungs.

The options were grim. We could opt for open-chest surgery to remove the mass, and then follow up with chemotherapy. Or, we could manage symptoms at home and keep bringing him in to get tapped and drained. In either case, the oncologist estimated only two to four months of extra time.

I wasn’t going to cut my boy open and put him through heavy-duty surgery for just a couple of months.

So, we decided to make the best of the time we had left, and go out on a high note.

By the time we left Cornell, the last ultrasound showed that fluid was already refilling in his pericardium. The clock was ticking until the next episode. Similar episodes would ostensibly continue until the frequency of them became too much and his body gave out. We were resigned not to let that happen, either.

They sent us home with an experimental Chinese drug called Yunnan Baiyo to slow down the tumor’s bleeding. This would buy us a little time with him….

THE BOY WE KNEW

Bobo then named simply Bo, was a rescue dog brought to us when he was just over a year old. At the time, my wife and I were fosters for the North Eastern Boston Terrier Rescue. As such, she had been monitoring Facebook and Craigslist. Sure enough, a little Boston popped up on Craigslist…several times. Suspicious? You bet.

We pieced the whole story together eventually after the fact, but it went like this:

1. The original owner was a young woman whose boyfriend had to show how tough he was by beating on the dog. Likely bullying the girl too.
2. She put him on Craigslist for $200. Some guy takes him, but Bo fights with this gentleman’s dogs so the girls asks for him back. She claims to have missed him. He gives Bo back to the girl for free.
3. She then promptly relists him on Craigslist for another $200.
4. My wife intervenes and goes and gets him.

Thus, Bo came home to live with us for a while.

Bo had a rough puppyhood, and it showed. He was twitchy. He didn’t deal with stress well. He fought my Bulldog. He bit me several times, especially if he thought there was going to be physical trouble.

On one occasion, I was playing with my daughter, tickling her. When she cried out in laughter Bo ran over and bit me pretty hard. In retrospect, we realized he couldn’t tell the difference between playing and fighting.

No matter what, though, even in his stressed moments, Bo clearly only wanted to love. He bonded with everyone quickly and showed us he was smart, sensitive, and eager to please. He cuddled readily and enjoyed all kinds of activities.

It was easy to make the decision to transition from fostering to owning. We loved him and we knew he could overcome his past.

With time, patience, and love, Bo — now named Bobo (which we decided was going to be short for “Mr. Bojangles”) — learned to trust. He had already calmed down a lot. His growth in those first couple of years was tremendous.

BIG CHANGES

When my wife and I got divorced, two of our dogs stayed with me and she took the third. Bobo and Dexter helped me get through that extremely difficult time. Shortly thereafter I started down the path to becoming a dog trainer. Bobo was right there with me as my rockstar. Dexter of course, that big lunk of a Bulldog, was too, but Bobo was the shining star.

As my career as a trainer grew, Bobo was growing too. Within a year I was taking him to work with me. At the time, I was a trainer with PetSmart, and I used to take a dog with me almost every day.

Bobo’s behavior was stellar. His dog-to-dog reactivity was always a work in progress, but he made great strides. He was no longer lunging and barking at every dog, and he could meet most dogs without incident. His behavior in classes was outstanding. He always impressed students and set the bar high.

By then I had also remarried, and my new wife’s Jack Russell, Darwin, joined the family.

My friend Randy, who was my manager at the time, left this wonderful comment on my Facebook when Bobo was dying: “I have been blessed to have seen this little guy change the lives of many pet parents and pets alike. He is a special animal and equally special parents. My heart breaks and my thoughts are with you all.”

This is so important: Bobo became an inspiration to people, especially after they’d heard his story. His love and enthusiasm and courage…his fearlessness in life…was something to behold. And he helped me spread goodwill with my training. Any of you who really know me understand how absolutely sincere I am with my passion for training. My mission ever since I started has been to add to the available store of goodness in the universe. Dogs have so much to teach us, and they deserve as much love and support as they can get.

SIMPAWTICO

In 2015 when I made the decision to leave PetSmart and start my own training school, Bobo, Dexter, and Darwin were right there with me. I fully consider it a joint venture. I started Simpawtico with my boys. They will forever be the Three Kings of Simpawtico. They helped shape who I am as a trainer and they rekindled the love of dogs that I’d lost as a young man.

Making that move was one of the best things I’ve ever done. I’m so grateful that my boys were a part of that.

THE LAST TWO WEEKS

With the clock ticking, we knew we had to double down on making it count.

First thing we did was buy a bunch of steaks! We took him to Syracuse to see Christi’s family one more time. They completely adored him and it was a bittersweet weekend.

We had as many of our closest friends over to see him one last time as we could. I wanted Bobo to see as many people as possible that he’d touched one last time.

I Skyped with my daughter, an adult herself now, who loved Bobo deeply. She was so far away and this was the best we could manage.

Bobo got doggie ice cream, boutique doggie treats, multiple steak dinners, and any other goodies he wanted. We fed him at the table, we gave him some of our dinners…everything. Anything and everything he wanted, he got.

We went for walks. We went for drives. He went with us on errands about town.

We watched funny shows and movies to lighten the heavy mood. We cuddled on the couch every single day.

And I still practiced with him. He was learning fun, advanced things and he was always into practice time. It was Daddy+Bobo time. So, we ran through our routines and behaviors. His enthusiasm was as high as ever, but I could tell he tired out faster and faster as the days went by.

We never let up, though. We wanted him to live like a prince, better than ever. We gave him the greatest, most intense loving because we didn’t take one single minute for granted. No matter how long of a day it was for us, we made time to do something special with him.

EXPIRING TIME

I’d scheduled “the day” with my vet. That was probably one of the most surreal things I’ve ever done. How do you schedule the death of a loved one? It felt wrong, somehow. The decided upon day: Thursday, February 16th.

It was hard coming up to it. We knew it was still the right thing to do but our hearts were breaking and raging against it. I felt like I was going through the stages of grief: the denial, the anger, the bargaining, and finally the begrudging acceptance.

There were little things, though, that nudged us in the proper direction. In the days leading up to Thursday, we noticed his paws and ears getting cold again. We noticed him slowing down and tiring out even more quickly. He was drinking more water again and his breathing rate was increasing.

It was time. It was as if the timing couldn’t have been any more…synchronized. His body was gearing up for another episode where he’d have to be put under anesthesia, tapped, and drained again.

Neither of us wanted that.

I remember the drive. As I crossed Walnut Street bridge towards the vet office, I was facing South. It was a typically gray, overcast day in February. Directly in front of me the clouds had opened up a hole and sunbeams punched through, seemingly bathing the earth in the direction of the vet’s office. I’m not much of a spiritual person, but I just remember imagining the gods opening up the sky, preparing for this little warrior to come home. That pretty much popped the cork and I started crying. Christi had beaten me to crying before we left home.

I won’t go into details of his actual passing, suffice it to say that he was being loved up by me, Christi, and his beloved vet, Dr. Duggan. It was peaceful and painless. The last thing he knew was licking on a yummy lump of cheese spread.

MOVING FORWARD

This has been so hard. For a long time I struggled around the house. I’d turn around expecting him to be there, looking up at me with his big, bright eyes and his wiggling little lightning-bolt tail. And when he wasn’t there, it just stabbed me in the heart.

Picking up his ashes a week later was hard. I managed to make it out of the vet’s lobby, only to sit in my car stroking the box, crying, and talking to him.

Several days later a card arrived, signed by the vet staff. There was also a little card with his paw print that they made for us. Oh boy, that was another ugly scene.

In many ways, making the video and writing this record of events has been my meager attempt to heal somewhat. To share a little more of Bobo with the world. It still hurts so much. I know the emptiness will fade over time, but the hole will never completely close.

I still have footage of him intended for the YouTube channel that I haven’t used yet. It’s going to be hard using it. Should I? Is it honoring him to use it, to help educate people? Isn’t that continuing the Simpawtico legacy together?

I think so.

The other day, The Last Samurai was on, and in the final scene, Tom Cruise’s character, Nathan, says something really profound. The Japanese Emperor asks him about Katsumoto (the titular character) and says, “Tell me how he died.” And Nathan replies, “I will tell you how he lived.”

This was the thrust behind the video. As I said in it, we mustn’t dwell on how those we love died; we must honor them for how they lived.

Bobo overcame his beginning to become loving, loyal, and courageous. His love, his intelligence, and his fearless joie-de-vive have touched many. He is loved and cherished beyond words. We are all, dogs and humans who knew him, better for it. I can only hope that my life will have made a similar impression when I’m gone.

Bobo was an inspiration to me. A true King, and I can only hope I can hold him again some day, stroking him with my peasant hands.

Acknowledgements

My vet, Dr. Emily Duggan at Broadway Animal Hospital, and the entire staff. Such caring, warm people. Thank you so much for your compassion.
The caring and professional staff at Cornell Companion Animal Hospital.
My Aunt Denise, who made a donation in Bobo’s name.
All of our friends and family who showed us support and love.
And of course all of those who made time to spend a few moments with Bobo in those last two weeks.

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