Boswell

Adopted: June 2001
Passed over: January 2008
 

In June 2001, we were headed to Potomac Yards to catch Shrek with some friends. We arrived early, so we decided to do some window shopping. My wife, Carrie, looked over at PetSmart and saw that Oldies But Goodies (OBG) was holding an adoption day.

“Let’s go inside and just look around,” she said.

Oh, sure. That’s like giving a 10-year-old child a $50 bill and telling him to go inside a toy store and just look around. We both had grown up with dogs, and we both yearned to have a dog of our own. Nevertheless, getting one that day was not necessarily inevitable.

We met several nice OBG members and were steered toward a couple of beautiful buff-colored cockers. We took each of them for a walk, but the chemistry just wasn’t there.

As is usually the case at the adoptions, several dogs were sitting in a circle on the floor with their foster parents. Boswell was sitting in his “frogger” position with his paws outstretched in all directions. He recently had received some medical treatment, so he was pretty mellow and a bit tired. But something about him caught my eye. I petted him for a bit, as did Carrie. Then we left the store.

We proceeded to look at some clothing stores, but I kept thinking back to little Boswell. I think that Carrie was able to read my thoughts.

“Do you want to go back?”

“Yes.”

We returned to PetSmart and proceeded to pet Boswell some more. We didn’t even take a walk with him, but something told me that he was the one.

So we filled out the requisite forms and set up a home visit the next day. Excitedly, we purchased bowls, food, treats and other necessities in preparation for Boswell.

We realized from the forms that he was about to turn 10-years-old, but it didn’t matter (in fact, many people mistook him for a puppy when they met him after we adopted him). We also later saw that he was considered a “special needs” dog on the OBG website—that probably made us want him more. We are grateful that OBG rescued him and nursed him back to health.

The following day we waited anxiously for Boswell and the OBG members to arrive at our condo. We actually switched our television to the channel that allowed us to view incoming guests, so we could see Boswell’s arrival. He walked into the foyer of the building, tugging at his lease with excitement.

When he entered our condo, Boswell walked everywhere, sniffing intently. While the OBG members checked out the place to ensure that it was “Boswell-friendly,” Boswell and I engaged in a game of tug-of-war with one of his toys. It was a first for me—my childhood dogs never really played with toys.

After the OBG folks gave us their “stamp of approval,” we put Boswell on a leash and took a nice walk to the Iwo Jima Memorial. Boswell meandered and sniffed the entire time. Once we reached the memorial park, we rested a bit on one of the benches. Boswell resumed his soon-to-be-very-familiar frogger position alongside the bench. We then headed back. We almost made it all the way home when Boswell decided that he needed a break. He plopped down on the sidewalk under the shade of a pedestrian bridge. We waited for a bit, and then I decided to give Boswell a lift, so I picked him up and carried him for a while.

“You’re carrying him? Oh, he’s going to be so spoiled!” exclaimed Carrie.

Yes, that was a harbinger of things to come.

There are so many great memories, that there simply isn’t enough space to describe them in full detail, but the things that we’ll miss most about Boswell are:
  • Causing him to wag his tail furiously just by saying the words, “Wiggle, wiggle.”
  • Calling him by his nicknames – The Boy, Bozzy Bear, Squirt, Wigglepup, Sir Poops-a-Lot (his Daddy officially dubbed him that) and, later, Little Old Man.
  • Racing him down the hallway in our old condo. As soon as the elevator opened, he knew that it was time to race for the door, so he’d sprint down the hall as fast as his little legs could carry him.
  • Playing tug-a-war with him using his toys; watching him chase his Daddy’s basketball around the floor.
  • Seeing how much he hated (HATED!) camping. The first time that we took him camping, he hopped out of the car, circled the campsite once and hopped right back into the car. He cried all night in the tent (the next time that we took him camping, we brought an inflatable mattress for his comfort, not ours). When we went hiking the next day, we hit a crossroads in the trail. Boswell’s Mommy asked him which way he wanted to go, and he immediately turned back in the direction that we had come from so he could head back to the car.
  • Walking him at the Mall after a huge snowfall and watching him eat snow—you could toss snowballs at him, and he would voraciously try to eat them.
  • Watching him walk along the sides of small hills—his “mountain goat” routine—or, in the case of the grassy area near the House of Representatives buildings, watching him wipe out on a small hill after tripping over a stone curb.
  • Finding him after he ate 11 hamburger buns during a 4th of July party (his tummy was HUGE!).
  • Nursing him back to health after he ate a bag of wasabe peas during his first week with us (it was a bad week for everyone involved). We underestimated his reach, and he pulled the bag down from a kitchen counter. We also remember seeing him cringe when he had his first accident after eating the peas because he thought that we were going to hit him—he clearly had been mistreated by his previous owners. But we were gentle and understanding with him.
  • Putting his tuxedo bow-tie around his neck for our pre-wedding party so he could join in the formal festivities.
  • Seeing him lean waaaayyyy over to look at the water from our boat while fishing in Burke Lake, panicking when he actually fell into the lake, but then laughing at him when he slouched down into the very middle of the boat, as far from the edge as possible, after we fished him out of the water.
  • Watching him run diagonally at the dog park—for some reason, he preferred to run at an angle. He also thought that he was a person and preferred to socialize with people at the doggie parks; he apparently wasn’t a “dog person.” On the other hand, he didn’t mind humping random dogs, which caused everyone to laugh at him, but we finally trained him to stop doing that.
  • Dressing him in his University of Texas jersey and listening to him bark while he watched us play flag football with our friends.
  • Hearing and watching him beg for food, especially during social gatherings. His Daddy (and grandmother) spoiled him and gave him a lot of (some say too much) people food.
  • Watching him hop up on the bed and sleep on his back while snoring loudly.
  • Seeing him crawl under the bed to “chill out” or, in one case, to hide from Daddy when he heard that it was bath time.
  • Hearing his Mommy sing “I’m a Little Cocker” (to the melody of “I’m a Little Teapot”)
  • Rubbing his potbelly.
  • Seeing him smile and feeling him kiss us.
  • Rocking him in our arms at night.

  • Seeing him get excited when he was told that his grandparents had included gifts for him in their care package to us.  Upon hearing his name, he ran over to the box, got on his hind legs and peaked down into the box (he had a red, rubber bone and various treats waiting for him in it)

    But most of all, we just miss having him around and knowing that he was waiting at the door with his unconditional love when we came home.

    He let us know that it was time on January 26, 2008. He hadn’t smiled in a long while and simply lying down to sleep had become a painful chore. He also lost his appetite during his last few days, which, for him, was a sure sign that he wasn’t feeling well at all. The latter was tough because we had hoped to give Boswell a last meal “treat” of McDonald’s, one of his all-time favorite food places. But that was not to be.

    Dr. Jennifer Kelly and Companion Animal Hospital in Springfield, VA helped Boswell pass along to the next life. They had provided him with outstanding medical care for years, and in the end, they allowed him to move on with dignity and without pain. They couldn’t have been more compassionate to both him and us, and it was clear that they shared in our sorrow.

    We know that Boswell is in a better place now—playing, smiling and running somewhere in the sun like he did when he was in his prime. But we still miss him and hope that he will visit us at night in our dreams.

    We love you Boswell.

    -The Lee Family



     

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