A Dog Named Boo

Click photos to enlarge.

The Two of Us

She has followed me quietly through the house,

halting a step behind me when I stop.

Looking down I find her gazing up placidly with brown eyes

that have taken me inside of her for 11 years now.

Bending I pet her head; speaking softly

while holding her graying muzzle in my palm.

She begins to wiggle like a puppy

and her eyes betray a light

that wasn't there a moment before.

There's something here for both of us.

Boo came into my life in the summer of 1996 when I rescued her from the pound.

In the first year or two of our time together I found a lump on her back which turned out to be cancerous. The vet removed it and no problem remained.

Winter or summer she loved to go out and sit on the hill overlooking the lake. Especially on Moby Dick, a mound of snow that would blow in around the car in the driveway and form what looked like a great white whale.

Sometimes she would charge down the hill to meet her pal who lived at the bottom of the hill. They would go sniffing around together, enjoying dog stuff.

Boo was a gentle spirit with soft, mellow brown eyes allowing me to look deep into her being. Seeing her soul in this way was a humbling experience, and I came to know she was a completely honest, guileless person.

One thing she loved to do was hunt. No rodent was safe if she knew it was there. Her sense of smell was acute, and on walks I would have to stop while she dug under a rock or board to get at a small creature that was burrowed there.

After her hunt, which was usually successful, one or two quick snaps of her head would stop the creature from wriggling. The sound of her crunching the animal in her mouth was disconcerting. But she had no malice in her at all. It was part of the process of life.

Then there was Lucky. Lucky was a stray kitten I picked up and he became Boo's closest buddy. He really misses Boo. I can tell because immediately after Boo was gone he began to spend his time with me.

Boo and Lucky were a genuine odd couple. It was Lucky, who sought out Boo for friendship. Boo's personality was so mild that she rarely showed what I would call emotion. But sometimes it was evident. (You can see the tumor that took her life on her hind leg. The vet said it was enormous. She died after having the leg amputated.)



I really miss Boo. She possessed a deep peace and a seeming acknowledgment of the completeness of her existence in the present. I came to understand this while looking deep into her eyes. It was all she had, and as far as I can tell it is all there is.


Text and Photographs Copyright 2008 by David H. Roche