BooBoo

My dearest Booboo,
You left one month, 11 days and four hours ago.
I've been wanting to write something since, but have been unable to.

You, as a border collie, were of average height, average weight
having all the typical traits, with all the typical problems
and you lived 12 years, of an average lifespan

To me, though, you were anything but average.
Every night for solid 10 years, you slept right next to me
I shared all my thoughts with you, and you always tolerated it
For the last two years, we lived apart, and I missed having you in my daily life
How you barked, how you ran, how you jumped
How you put your head on my knees under the table when we ate
How you hid under the couch after you did trash so we could only see your tail
How you always took the front seat in my echo and made nose marks all over the windshield
How you would do all the tricks you know before we asked you to when you wanted the treat
How you understood every word we said but only do the ones you were pleased
How you would push me a little when I gave you my suffocating hugs
How you always managed to find stinky things to roll over during our walks
How you loved the snow and ate it like ice cream
How your fur would puff up after we shower you, and how you looked after your each summer shave
How you loved chasing and being chased
How you moved your back legs as if you were dancing when you got a back massage
How you would take a bow when you wanted to play
How you would hide your legs under you when we played with your paws
How you came running to me with your favorite toy in your mouth
How you followed me around the house...

My dear booboo
I hope you felt loved
I hope you had some great time with us
I promised you that I would come back to take care of you
I hoped that I kept my promise
We had to let you go
My dear, did you know?
Where would I go now, where would I put my face?
I can no longer find that soft spot behind your ears
For the last time, on your last day, you let me lay my face there, just like you always did
You sighed, just like you always do
Only this time, I know.

I'm so sorry, my baby.
I love you. I love you.
I love you.
Bye bye, my Booboo.

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12 things you may not know about Boo:

1. He was a surprise birthday gift to me. Only he didn't stay in his box and crawled out and really surprised me. Hence his name "Boo".
2. His full name was BooBoo Nutella Rakotomalala. Nutella for his hazelnut-colored eyes. He only gets his full name called when he is really in trouble.
3. He has had epilepsy since he was two. He had, on average, about one episode per month for 10 years.
4. He had an ear infection and a neck injury when he was little, which is why he wears a harness instead of a collar. He also had a knee surgery to fix his patellar luxation when he was about three. He was always energetic and hyper active despite all these health issues.
5. He ate all our Lindt chocolate Santa under the huge christmas tree one year. He only got some soft deposit after that, no other effects. His foodie adventures also include chinese roasted ducks, foie gras, and kung-pao tofu.
6. He loves bread. His weakness is pizza crust.
7. He had a major vocal fight with a squirrel (on a tree) once. It lasted 30 minutes. I wished, to this day, that I had my phone with me that morning.
8. His birthday is supposed to be Christmas. But he got bitten in the park on his first birthday, so we changed it to Halloween. It suits him better anyways.
9. I once came home and found out that he had got the trash bin out of the cabinet, digged trash, put the bin back, and closed the cabinet door. I only realized that because there was an empty bag left outside. 
10. The first time he went to the beach, he charged at the waves. He drank so much sea water he couldn't hold his pee. The next day he didn't drink it anymore.
11. I once left home with the TV on MSNBC, and came back to find him on the couch with the remote under his paw and the tv on Fox. I'm sure it was a prank.
12. He is secretly a mommy's boy. I enjoyed it. I even enjoyed the part that it was a secret. Because then it would be just for us.

Bye Bye, Boo-Boo

A warm, sunny day. A nice walk, a lovely meal on a blue patterned sheet, surrounded by his closest family, that is how my best friend died.

For 12 years, slightly more than a decade, BooBoo walked with me, sometimes twice, sometimes thrice a day. We met fellow dog lovers, won over a few non-dog lovers, and played a lot. I dedicated songs to him, wrote stories about him, and sang his praises to anyone who would stay and listen long enough.

He had a wonderful personality. He knew his toys by name, he knew exactly what he wanted to do and how to best communicate it. He lived his life on his own terms. He ate when he wanted, played when he wanted, and stayed alone when he wanted. You had to learn the tricks to make him want to do something that you thought was best for him. For example, sometimes a “Come, Boo-Boo,” would not make him want to walk with me. However, “Bye Bye, Boo-Boo” would make him rush. He didn’t want to be left out of any adventure.

The illness came quickly. The best medical technology in the world and the best doctors in the world couldn't improve his quality of life. Yes, it slowed down the moment of separation by replacing organic life functions with medication. But what a life? Of having food, the life force, poison him slowly, feeling weak and hungry, but feeling even worse after eating. Not being able to take the stairs, not being able to sit or walk or run.

We tried our best to keep him going, but he didn’t want to stay any more. Sometimes, it is time to let go.

A warm, sunny day. A nice walk, a lovely meal on a blue patterned sheet, surrounded by his closest family, that is how my best friend died. I couldn’t quite believe it still when the doctor said he was gone. There was no difference, it was just like he had gone to sleep; no sharp transition between life and death; he looked at peace. I still kept hoping that life was like the magical world of Harry Potter, and that Boo would just get up and say that the injection had only killed the disease and not him. That didn’t happen. I wished him goodbye in the language he knows best – “Bye-Bye, Boo-Boo”. And this time, he didn’t come with me.