Meet Bo's Sidekick

Bo (left), Dean (right)

Bo has a brother. Not a blood brother, but a kill shelter brother. 

When inquired about adopting Bo, we learned that a second black lab was pulled from the shelter in Ohio. Both dogs would be, temporarily, at a farm. 

Karla and I drove several hours into Western Maryland to meet the dogs, intent on adopting one. Well, we adopted both. But don't assume it was an immediately warm and cuddly moment. Neither dog liked the other. As a matter of fact, the family who owned the farm would not bring both dogs out together.

We were told that the attacks were vicious. These dogs had been imprinted with some serious fear, anger, anxiety, distrust, and maybe even hate. It is hard to imagine that dogs can experience hate. But listening to this family prepare us for what we were about to encounter, I can't help but wonder.

Leaning on the family, we coaxed them to show us both dogs at the same time. We wanted to see what they described. We wanted to see if we could handle Bo and Dean, rehabilitate them. We wanted to see just how bad their hatred for the other appeared. Karla took Dean by the leash. I took Bo. And, yes, they clearly did not like one another. And, yes, the farmer raised a skeptical eyebrow when we decided that we would rescue both of them. Together. 

He said, "I 'spected you'd turn around, walk off without either of 'um."

Change took time. There were fights. I got nicked up a bit when trying to separate them, trying to protect them from one another. But after seeking some wonderful professional advice from an animal behaviorist, and lots of patience, Bo and Dean settled into a...friendship. At the time, we did not dare predict it. We did not see it coming. It just sort of happened one day. Literally, we woke up and things were different between them. They were sleeping alongside one another. For months, they had slept in separate rooms.

Now, this all fell into place after a long year and a well-needed neutering. So, time and snip-snip helped. Nevertheless, the neutering didn't to take as there were times when we didn't know for certain that Bo and Dean would ever be buddies. We were never going to give up on either. Instead, we were prepared to take care of them both even if the best we could hope for were a couple of dogs who only came to tolerate the other. We have over an acre of fenced-in land. There'd be space.

Yet, it turned out better than we had hoped. We were able to massage the anger out them. We out-waited them. We out-loved their expectations. And trust built. 

It reminds me of something I picked up from Shakespeare and have never forgotten. The real magic in this world is, indeed, in time. For all of those potions in Shakespeare's plays, none ever worked as intended. Often, disaster ensued when humans tried to concoct magic out of herbs and potions. Yet, it was time...it is time...that erases mistakes, softens the edges, and brought two dogs together to write a new chapter--two dogs who were previously conditioned into a life of fear amid the unmistakable scent of death. 

It is true. Time is a powerful eraser and a pencil point.

Meet Bo's Tongue

As Bo ages, new quirks arise.

The first that I noticed as Bo officially became a senior dog was Bo's tongue as he slept. The tip of it slipped out and stuck into place. It has continued to every since. The tip dries a touch--not so much that it feels unhealthy. I've run my fingers over it; it just feels like a damp piece of rubber.

Sometimes, when he wakes up, it remains in place until he drinks some water or moves his tongue around and makes it wet.

Looking at him closely, his teeth have been worn down with time. With his teeth smaller and unable to keep the tongue all the way in, this view has become a visual reminder of Bo's growing senility. 

This matters because I have been through this process a few times. The final years of beloved pets are bittersweet, but you learn to read the tea leaves. You prepare yourself.

Reminders are all around us. Pictures of pets from our past, pets of family members, and even a pet on social media taught me a lesson.

Recently, a loving couple chronicled the last years of their senior dog, Poh, on Instagram: Pohthedogsbigadventure. It was a remarkable narrative to follow. Poh beat kidney failure while his owners carried and carted him with them around the country, from ocean to ocean. The images and short video clips continue to appear on Instagram. Poh's family continues to share his legacy. While this remains a powerful connection for me, the care of any pet, especially those in their senior years, reminds me of our humanity.

My cousin and wife adopted a senior dog, Chessie, after caring for the dog preceding Chessie--Boo. This year, Chessie was featured on Michael and Kathy's family Christmas card. I love how much they embrace their senior labs--actually, they set such a beautiful example of respect and love for all of nature. Their photographs of wildlife on the Chesapeake are beautiful.

Back in 2010, when my wife moved in with me, she brought Smudge--a really old cat. Settling in, Smudge found a spot in a corner of a back bedroom and spent most of his last months curled up. Occasionally, Smudge came out to say hello. He passed in his sleep in his 18th year. I built a coffin and then buried him out back by a tree. It was an Irish wake. I spent the late afternoon polishing off several cans of beer by his resting place until my wife made it home from work to join me.

We knew Smudge's time were limited, and with each new quirk, or signal of Bo's aging, we realize where Bo is in his life. However, that only encourages us to make him as comfortable and as happy as he can be. As he is a rescue dog pulled from a kill shelter in Ohio, his first life may not have been ideal, but his time with us will always be the best we can make it.

Hopefully, those final days are still a year or two away.

Meet Bo

Meet Bo.

Bo is a senior dog. We are not certain of his precise age. He may have just celebrated his 11th or 12th birthday. Regardless, we celebrated this past weekend with a few treats and new dog bed.

Yet, Bo still uses the couch.

Here are five things to know about Bo, since Bo and I will be blogging (about him) throughout the month of March. He is snoring next to me on the sofa as I type...we need to discuss his participation grade tomorrow.



Seeing
Bo doesn't see very well anymore. Often, he flinches when I call his name I and am standing right beside him. He doesn't flinch like he is frightened. He flinches like he is startled and he thinks I am playing a practical joke on him, like I am a magician, appearing and disappearing at will.

Moving
Bo walks in circles around the house and the yard. That is all well and good, except my wife, Karla, and I suspect that he just doesn't know how to find his way back home. He can't see the door. We call him. He follows our voices like a beacon and he is our laboring, lost ship.

As I have been reading a bit about senior dogs, I learned today that Bo might have canine cognitive dysfunction (aka as senility). He matches the three major symptoms: pacing, restlessness, and an inability to settle at night. Bo will wake up when I go to bed. I am usually up and down every two hours or so every night. Sometimes I sleep on the couch with him. Sometimes I take him out back to let him walk a bit. We will be trying a supplement called Neutricks which may help support some healthier cognitive functions in our little, clumsy friend.

Eating
Bo still eats well, but he isn't a fan of soft fruits. He chews on a piece of a banana for about ten minutes; yet, he chomps and swallows anything solid like a gator in the Everglades.

Drinking
This has nothing to do with age, but Bo is a messy drinker. He leaves a trail of water around the house, sometimes puddles. Studying him, I know that Bo finishes his drinking by not swallowing the last four or five laps of water. He lets them pool in his mouth...and then off he goes as if his jaw was numbed with Novacaine.

Chasing
Bo doesn't chase much of anything, but I will share that on his first day in our house he chased the cats. For hours. And they weren't too thrilled with Bo. We had rescued Bo from a kill shelter in Ohio. We drove to the western reaches of Maryland to meet his initial rescuer...but back to the chasing. Imagine a chubby, friendly dog waddling after cats 10x faster than him. That was Bo. He was curious and happy and couldn't understand why the cats wouldn't keep still. Now, Bo doesn't bother with the cats--the thrill is gone--but one cat does come close to sniff Bo's head and paws when he is safely asleep.

Tomorrow, maybe I will write about his snoring...