My Sweet, Perfect Bosco

I feel kind of like a wrung out dish rag. I've been doing a rather excessive amount of crying this weekend.

Our dog, friend and family member, Bosco, passed away yesterday morning.

I was bracing myself for it... I have been for years. We knew he had a heart murmur and over the last two weeks, he's been fading fast. Sadly, it doesn't really hit you until it happens. I had a sliver of hope that he could hold on for... well, ever.

It was one of my biggest fears that he would lose his dignity in a long, agonizing death.

I was worried fluid would collect in his heart and lungs and he would suffocate.

I was worried I would lose the Bosco I knew and loved, before his death.

But none of that happened. He died just as I wanted him to. Fairly young, with most of his mobility and still Bosco in my memory. I never wanted to see my beautiful dog lose what I loved him for. And he didn't. He was Bosco, my sweet, perfect Bosco for every moment of his life.

Bosco was a Border Collie/Great Pyrenees mix. He was beautiful. Picture a gigantic Border Collie with a wider face and a lot more hair and you have Bosco in all his glory. He was protective, uncannily human, playful, loving and gentle. He adored children. He made friends with anyone brave enough to come closer to the big barking collie.

We've had him since he was just a little pup. I grew up with him. The past nine and a half years are all stamped with his memory. I remember when he was young and crazy... and the way he drove us all crazy with his incessant barking at birds and bunnies.  How the local vets loved him and remembered his name (he was a bit of a ladies man). How beautiful he was when he'd take a nap and sprawl out, mooning the world trying to warm his tummy in the sun. How he hated having his feet touched. The afternoon I spent looking into his serious eyes and explaining to him why he should join the army (true story. I was young and crazy too.) How he would only obey me if he thought my request was "reasonable". The day we gave him his full name (Bosco John Ernie Ignatius) How picky he was about everything from beds to bones. How perfectly dignified and majestic he was. How he used his paws like hands. How he seemed to be able to judge character.

As the years passed, it seemed as though he outgrew me. He got older and wiser and I got bigger and stupid in all new ways. He seemed to treat me with the sweet indulgence and tired tolerance you would have with a small child. Sometimes he would like at me like "Really? You ridiculous human. When will you learn?"

He watched over all of us. That's what we all were to him- his job, his responsibility. You could see it in his eyes. The way he alerted us to the presence of anyone outside of the family on the property. When he patrolled the yard with a seriousness that was almost comical. He was the sheep dog and we were the sheep. And if any little lambs forgot... well, he would set you straight pretty fast. Mess with his flock, and prepare yourself for the consequences.

He's leaving me with a big old hole in my heart, but I am so grateful to him... for all the joy he gave me. For all the times he let me cry into his fluffy mane. For his protection. For his undying loyalty. For his love.

I called him my "Furry Angel" (among other things) and I know he still is. After all, everyone knows all dogs go to heaven.

Good bye, Bosco. Thank you so much for everything. I loved you, I love you and I always will. You're in my heart just as you were and just as you are. Bosco, my sweet, perfect Bosco.

For My Older Little Sister

Today is the day between two special days.

Yesterday, my older sister, Kelley, left home.

Tomorrow is her birthday.

Yesterday she woke up at the crack of dawn (and sleeping in the same room I know this for a fact) gathered up all of her stuff, carted her very heavy suitcase down the stairs and hustled and bustled until about 6:00 AM, when she roused me from my beloved bed and I hugged her goodbye.

Tomorrow, Kelley is starting training with NET ministries She is also turning 19 years old. Training lasts a little over a month. Then she hits the road for eight months.

I am the second oldest of nine. Yeah. Nine. As in the number nine, like one, two, three, four and so on and so on. Kelley is my one and only older sister.

Growing up, she was my best friend. She was the leader of our wild and crazy games of pretend. She loved playing "family" and that meant I was often the guy, which also meant I was her older brother, husband or son whenever the need arose. We played paper dolls with towns streching over our entire bedroom. We played dress up with gowns, aprons and hats, becoming anyone and everyone from Cinderella to an evil stepsister. We announced, planned and held eleborate weddings for every pair of toys we could think of.

She has influenced me in a lot of ways she will never know, and probably some I don't even realize. I followed her into almost everything. I looked up to her and I still do. I was right behind her in everything for a long time, and the only thing I have ever surpassed her in is height.

Kelley is a leader. She is an organizer. She is an oldest. She is a good friend, listener and sister. She will be an excellent wife and mother some day, which is what she has wanted to do for as long as I have known her.

She is the first child to leave our family, and in a way, it is an ending and a beginning for the whole clan.

We will miss her very much while she is gone, but we are also very happy for her. For the past three years she has been so excited about NET and the work they are doing, not just in St. Paul, Minnesota, but in the entire country. I am so glad she finally is living what she has been dreaming about.

I am happy for her, and I am also proud of her. She has finally spread the beautiful wings I have watched her grow for over a decade and fly, showing the rest of the world what I was lucky enough to see first.

Happy Birthday, Kelley. I love you, Older Little Sister.