On Monday, Drew and I went to two movies. The cool, dark movie theatre distracted us from our new reality of life without Bosco.
Afterward, not wanting to go home, yet not having anywhere to go, we found ourselves aimlessly wandering around Barnes and Noble. We passed through the aisle of kits and projects and contemplated taking on new hobbies like painting rocks or building model airplanes. We stared at the puzzles for at least thirty minutes, considering whether we should take on a 3,000 piece puzzle. We split up, and I found myself cross-legged in the pet section, crying over a book titled “Goodbye, Friend.”
When it comes to dogs, we all think our dog is the best dog that ever lived. Of course, they can’t all be the best dog. They can’t all be the best dog because, in fact, Bosco was the best dog in the entire world.
His crooked little tail, his love for popcorn, his hatred of the vacuum cleaner, his particularities regarding the proper placement of his food and water bowls are the little things that bring tears to our eyes now, but that someday will bring a smile to our face once again.
The absence of his paws clickity-clacking across our cement floors is louder than any sound I can remember.
Never let it be said that Bosco wasn’t popular. Our friends and family have been overwhelmingly supportive. For that, we thank you, we love you & we know you miss the Boz too.
I have done mostly what most men do,
And pushed it out of my mind;
But I can’t forget, if I wanted to,
Four-Feet trotting behind.
Day after day, the whole day through—
Wherever my road inclined—
Four-feet said, “I am coming with you!”
And trotted along behind.
Now I must go by some other round, --
Which I shall never find –
Somewhere that does not carry the sound
Of Four-Feet trotting behind.