In Memory of Bo Dog

He was a great dog. When Cocoa, the dog I grew up with died, I was sad and thought no dog could replace him. My sister picked out a yellow lab/lab retriever mix from the animal shelter to cheer me up. This was 14 years ago when I was working at Birkenstock in the old building on Galli Drive. Laurie brought him down to me at work, and he walked right in to the glass door, took a step back and looked at it, confused. It melted my heart and I loved him right away.

I named him "Bohemian Dog," "Bo" for short.

We crate trained him. And we crate trained him too well. When we let him out of the crate, we took him straight to a patch in the backyard to do his business. He would only go to the bathroom at that spot in the yard. Once Laurie took him to her apartment while she was at Sonoma State. He whined to go out. And she let him out, but he would not go to the bathroom. So she took him back in. And he whined to go out again. This went on until she was forced to drive him back to Novato in the middle of the night.

When he was still a puppy, about half grown, I took him on a water skiing trip with Suzi and Craig. It was the first time Bo had seen a large body of water. We were standing on the dock getting the moron speech from the boat rental instructor when we heard a splash. He didn't know what a lake was, but he knew he was supposed to jump in it. And once he was in it, he didn't know what he was supposed to do next. We fished him out and went out on the boat for four hours. He occasionally jumped in the water with me while I was getting ready to ski. So he may have "checked the prop." But as far as I know, he didn't go to the bathroom the whole day. When we got home, he went right to his spot and peed for about four and a half minutes.

He was really smart. On my birthday, when he was around 3 months old, he lunged to get a bite of my birthday cake. I scolded him and he went and laid down on the floor. He was still for a few minutes and then suddenly popped his head up with a look that said, "I've got an idea!" At the time, I thought it meant, "I really have to go outside to my spot," because he ran to the backdoor, whined, and scratched at the door. But he was scheming and totally tricked me. I set my cake down, got up and walked around the coffee table to open the door for my good little doggie that wanted to go out. As soon as I was around the table, he darted around the other side of the table and got himself a great big bite of cake.

When I moved out of my parents' place and in to a house across town, he came to live with me. He was happy there. I remember one night Laurie brought him a toy - a cheese log that was supposed to last for days. He polished off the whole thing in about ten minutes. Laurie and I were watching a movie, and about a half hour in, he had the absolute worst dog farts I have ever had to endure. We put him outside, and I swear, you could smell it through the sliding glass door.

We were young and used to party quite a bit when I lived in that house. One night, I had a few too many down at the Viking Lounge and had to leave my car there and take a cab home. The next morning, I was still asleep at 10:00 and Bo was mad that I hadn't got him his breakfast yet. He devoured half of one of my basketball shoes. I was sprawled out asleep on my back on my futon and he marched right up the length of my body, stepping on me in about the worst place he could have and dropped the half eaten shoe on my face. But I wasn't mad, I had that one coming. And aside from that, he was pretty good about not eating things he shouldn't. Oh, except I think he did eat a remote control and Laurie's calculator.

He had an obsession with tennis balls. And if a tennis ball could not be found, any roundish ball like object would do. Walter and I took him to a park one night, and when we got there, we realized we had forgotten to bring a tennis ball. But I wasn't worried. Sure enough, he started in the middle of the field and start running in an ever expanding circle, sniffing all the while. The he suddenly stopped and darted to the left and came back with a tennis ball. Another night, we took him to the high school to watch a meteor shower from the bleachers. And we purposely did not bring a ball so he wouldn't bug us. He disappeared for about ten minutes, marched up the bleachers and dropped a baseball that thudded and bonged along down the bleachers. Then he ran to the bottom, picked it up, carried it to the top and dropped it again - "Bong, bada bong, bada bang bang bang…" over and over.

I took him rollerblading once with some friends on an empty street near the Birkenstock building. I was letting him pull me around and a friend thought it would be funny to throw a tennis ball. It was like a cartoon, and I fell down hard but managed not to spill my beer. And he came running right back, dragging his leash and dropped the ball in my lap. The slobbery wet dirty ball.

If there was a group of people sitting around, and one of them was wearing white pants, he would invariably drop the wet, dirty, slobbery ball in that person's lap. Oh, and he was good at dropping it in my coffee mug too. And for a while, he delighted in nudging my arm while I had a coffee cup in my hand, causing me to spill it so he could lick it up. He did that with other drinks too, but mostly coffee.

Another time, I took him rollerblading in Golden Gate Park with another group of friends. I was a bit off in the distance and someone threw the tennis ball to me, but it went over my head. Bo, running after it, ran right through me and knocked me off of my feet. The swelling was immense, both in my knee and on his head. He was a cone head dog for months. He got cortisone shots, but I don't think the swelling ever went down entirely. And he was still really smart, but a little less so. And as for me, I had a nasty purple bruise on my leg that dripped down to my feet over the next few months. It was pretty scary - eventually the tops of my feet turned purple.

He was a bit skittish, and the strangest things would scare him. OK, really skittish. But not as bad as my current dogs, one of whom runs and hides when I turn on the vent fan in the kitchen. I took him to work once, and he was absolutely terrified of the UPS trailer. It wasn't moving or anything, just parked loaded up and waiting for the UPS truck to come. And if you opened an umbrella anywhere near him, look out.

He was smart and very eager to please. And despite a few incidents like the cake episode, followed the rules - no begging at the table, stay off the furniture, and so on. When I moved in with Veronica, the apartment we rented didn't allow pets. So Bo went to live with my parents. He quickly became my Dad's dog.


I went to visit a month or so after I moved and all of my training had gone right out the window. He was on the couch and had grown accustomed to scraps of people food. And he would make my Dad leave the back door open so he could throw the tennis ball and watch TV at the same time. It was then I think I understood how my parents felt when I came home from Berkeley. 18 years of good upbringing undone by one short semester at Cal.

He was very happy at my parents' house. And he went just about everywhere with my Dad. I understand he became quite good at shagging golf balls on their walks around the golf course. In the last few years, we had to moderate his diet and Dad had to help him in the car.

He was great with kids.

And he LOVED helping people open their Christmas presents. That's one of my favorite memories of him. He wouldn't touch them under the tree, but on Christmas Day, as soon as you held one up and asked for help, he got right to it.

Not last Christmas, but the one before, he was in pretty bad shape. He was slowing down, and sometimes his hind legs would just collapse out from under him and he couldn't get up. And he was so enthusiastic about opening presents that year, I really thought maybe he knew it would be his last Christmas. But a trip to the vet and some medicine gave him another year and then some.

I stopped by to visit my sister the other day, and she told me they had to put Bo down last week. He needed help in to the car. They took him to a few of his favorite places and then for his last ride to the vet. He somehow managed to walk himself in, with dignity according to Laurie. They laid him on the table and had some music playing and inserted the needle. He went peacefully.

Laurie was there with Mom and Dad. She went through this with Casey not long ago. Part of me is sorry I wasn't invited for his last walk. But part of me is glad I wasn't there. I don't handle things like that very well. Laurie says tt was really hard on my Dad. And my being there would have made it harder.

My Dad has a lot of good friends, but I think Bo was his best friend. Bo always wanted to go for a ride and would listen patiently to whatever anyone had to say. And my Dad often has a lot to say and likes to go for rides and vent. And when nobody else would listen, Bo was always there for him.



And all he ever asked was for you to toss the ball for him just one more time.