|Bo and Me, ND, many years ago|
Jeff, my vet, came to the tailgate while I held the old man in my lap, not unlike the picture above. Not a whole lot needed to be said as he slid the needle in the vein. That was probably a good thing, since right about then my allergies seemed to kick in and my 62 year old eyes started to water a bit. Jeff said something I missed, patted my shoulder and left me to ponder the blue sky, bright sun, and left-over leaves on the oaks. Back in the barn, I let all the dogs sniff Bo, and then took him to the cemetery out in B Field and put him with Ruby, Rocket, Peaches, Gritz, Duke, Charcoal and Shuga. Getting to be quite a pack out there!
Well, I don't have much in the way of wisdom and the older I get, the less I tolerate flowery words that say what simple ones will. He was a tough, smart, bird hunting fool and a survivor. He should have been dead a few times in his colorful career, but showed up alive and grateful days later. He was not handsome, but won anyway. He wasn't a fighter, but had game. He was my 'go-to' dog for 10 years. He was my buddy.
Maybe now I can finish his story.