It may seem odd to include an entire post about a family pet, but let me be a bit self-indulgent here. Bogey, our 14 year dog, died yesterday. We all knew it was coming, but that didn't make it any easier.
Joe & I got Bogey after we'd been married about a month, and I casually mentioned something about wanting a baby one night at dinner. Bogey was the perfect distraction for me! He was smart, required undivided attention, and gave unconditional love. I had great stories to share with my second graders about his antics (he knew how to do an "obstacle course" at the park, using all the jungle gym equipment and the slide as his big finale), and Bogey kept me company on the Saturdays that Joe was working. He & I had a Saturday routine that included frequent trips to PetSmart and the park. We even moved to a smaller place with a back yard to give Bogey the "outside time" I thought he needed, since he was kenneled all day in our first apartment.
Enter Ross, 3 years later. Our walks decreased, but by then, Bogey was content with a couple walks each week. He LOVED being outside. When Joe was out of town, he slept in the doorway of our bedroom, to "protect" me. Ross loved Mr. Bogey. Bogey didn't always like Ross, but the two came to an understanding. They coexisted, and they shared me.
Chloe's arrival gave me less time to spend with Bogey. He only got a walk every few weeks, and they were shorter than normal. He still enjoyed being outside, chasing birds that flew through the yard, and getting treats. We moved to Frisco the year Chloe was born, so Bogey's yard got smaller, but he didn't seem to mind. Any time he was in the house and the front door opened, out he went. We always knew he'd come back with his ears down and an "I know I shouldn't have but I couldn't help it" look on his face. Probably more walks would have ended the need for the neighborhood jaunts. Maybe not.
By the time Emmy came along, Bogey was 11 years old. He was slowing down a bit, and didn't seem to mind being left alone. He would occasionally come up to me for a pat on the head or a tummy rub, but not too frequently. He was entering the golden years.
Sunday, we picked Bogey up from the vet, where he stayed while we were in New Jersey last week. He was frail and shaky, and the vet said he hadn't been eating. By Monday, he still wasn't eating and couldn't seem to get comfortable. He paced all day in the back yard, and when I finally let him inside, he went and laid down for a few minutes. We tried feeding Mr. Bogey anything we thought he might like- ham, pasta, turkey, graham crackers... no dice. He just couldn't eat.
Monday night after the kids went to bed, Joe took Bogey to the emergency vet. I think I knew he wouldn't be coming home again. I stroked his head and told him what a great dog he was. Not just for me, but for all of us. It was easy to see he didn't have any fight left in him. But, in true Bogey form, he perked up for me. I think he knew I was saying goodbye.
Tuesday morning, after a night of unsuccessful IV antibiotics and fluids, our vet told us it was time. So, I loaded up a car full of very sad kiddos (and a very sad momma) and met Joe at Dr. Buffington's office. The receptionist, Jamie, met us at the door with an enormous hug and a box of tissues. Dr. B let us have one last moment with Bogey. We all cried and hugged and said goodbye.
There are so many things we will miss about Bogey. When we are ready, I am sure we'll be able to smile when we tell funny stories about him. We'll remember the quirky things he did, the times he made us angry or happy or loved. But for now, we're just sad. Sad, sad, sad, as Emmy said. Even though we know he's in a better place now.
