BoBo's Story - The Love of an Older Dog

In January of 2006 I wrote an article about adopting older dogs called, appropriately enough, "Why Five Dogs", which I e-mailed to just about everyone on my mailing list. With the animal shelter in Pennsauken NJ closing, I felt moved to do something. Of the many responses I received, perhaps the most moving was one from an old friend from my school days, Mary Riddle.

Mary had just lost her friend BoBo, a Newfoundland mix who was just short of 16 years old. He was twelve when Mary adopted him. You might say that she found "Why Five Dogs" to be right on time. In her letter back to me she wrote "BoBo's Story With Me", which is the basis for this web-page. I thought Mary and Bobo's story deserved to be told, and asked Mary to supply some pictures, which you will find here.

Phil Cohen
February 20, 2006

Bobo's Story With Me

Phil,
I opened your "old dog" email today, January 27. You sent this to me - January 18.

On January 19, a wonderful vet named Amy and her assistant came to my home and put my big boy BoBo to sleep while I held him in my arms. He went to heaven with great beauty, in the comfort of his own home surrounded by love.

Big boy BoBo was almost sixteen years old. He came to live with me when he was twelve years old. He was an old dog.

Bo' s Story With Me

The same week BoBo came to my home my Aunt Nancy had passed and many relatives came by for her funeral.

One particular third cousin, (no names) came with his new wife along with this big black dog.

He looked like a baby bear. He was about 90 pounds. Maybe a cross between a Newfoundland, setter, and lab. He barely made it up the steps, then collapsed at the top for a long nap.

When it got late, my cousin said he and his wife were headed to Cape May for a week long vacation and would it be okay if BoBo stayed with us while they were there. I was fine with that because I love dogs and have a fenced-in yard.

It didn't take me long to figure out that BoBo was in really bad shape. I won't go into details because it would be painful for me.

I called this cousin and told him not to pick up BoBo, I was keeping him. I think they were relieved.

BoBo had a new home, and I had a new best friend.

The first of many trips to the vet was informative and fruitful. BoBo was on his way. Right away he enjoyed a natural diet (real meats, etc.), a routine he could trust, and the love and attention of a real family.

It only took two passes of blood/lab work to find the right level of meds for the big boy. Then, when he had about two full days of meds under his belt, the most amazing thing happen.

I was laying on the day bed watching TV and napping, when the big boy galloped over to me, stuck his big head in my face and with his big beautiful eyes said to me, "Let's go out and do something".

We went to Cooper River (Maria Greenwald Park) that day for a nice long walk. He was alive, pain free, and oh so happy. Probably for the first time in many years.

The next three years were filled with lots of fun for me and BoBo. Hanging out, nature walks, swimming, car rides and lots of fun. He was amazing! He touched everyone with joy. He loved people. He loved life. He loved me and I loved him.

The last eight months he started to fail. Just a little bit every day. I kept a very close eye on him. I was resolved my big boy would never know pain again. It was difficult to gauge because my boy was so full of a zest for life. I prayed for the wisdom and courage to know.

In the end it was BoBo himself to decide.

Over the years my boy dug lots of holes in his yard. He loved to dig. God knows he had the big paws to do it. He had one special hole. It was the best one.

On January 19 at 4:30 a.m. he laid in that hole and would not come out for four hours. He told me he was ready.

Mary Riddle
January 27, 2006