A Journey to Boston

BJ and I got married in October of 1997, and we moved into our first place a month later.  We spent our first 'married' birthdays there, and we had so much fun decorating for our first Christmas together!  BJ was working at his Dad's car lot at the time, and I was driving back and forth to Oakland City to finish my English Degree.

 When spring break rolled around for me, which happened to be a cold and snowy one that year, I decided it was time to start voluteering my time somewhere, and spring break seemed like a good opportunity.  And, after not very much a lot of thought about where to start my voluteering, I jumped into to my car and headed out to the Vincennes Pet Port - with strict instructions from BJ and everyone who knew me, to NOT come home with a pet on my first trip.  I'm an animal psychopath.  I save and rescue everything that comes into my view - including rodents and bugs.  But that's another post. 

When I arrived at the Pet Port, I was taken into a room to fill out papers so I could be a volunteer.  I had completely planned to head to the Cat Room and give the cats some lovin'.   As I finished my paper work, a man in a sock hat, with a scruffy salt and pepper beard, volunteered to show me around.  We took a look at the puppy area, and I said my pleasantries, "Oh, how cute," when inside I was doing everything in my power to keep from running in the room, gathering as many as I could hold in my arms and darting out the door.  But I didn't.  I made it all the way back to the 'big dog' cages before the nice man said, "I know you told me 782 times that you CAN NOT take an animal home, but there's just one dog in particular you have to meet.  He's over here with this red dog - they were found runnin' together, and brought in by a young couple yesterday.  You just have to meet this guy - he's somethin' else."  And so, I walked to the cage and laid eyes on the red dog first.  My heart sank with sadness, obviously, worried about her fate. 

But then, I laid eyes on the dog he was talking about.  He was obviously mostly border collie, but bigger - he was built just like "Lassie" but with a bit shorter hair, and he was black and white - not at all what I was expecting.  The man said to me, "Let me get him out - you can start by walking him around outside a bit."  Fine.  I could handle this.  "I won't get completely attached after a short walk.  I can handle putting him back in the prison cage when we're done."  The man put the leash on him, handed it to me, and off we went out the door.  I'd take a step, and then he'd take one.  I'd go four, he'd go four.  What a good dog.  And then, I bent down, face to face, and I was done.  Finished.  Finito.  When I looked into his eyes, as corney as this sounds, it was as if he already knew me.  He knew I was coming.  He knew who I was.  I grabbed him around the neck and told him everything would be ok.

I walked him back in, handed the leash to the man, and headed home to discuss the situation with BJ.  I knew all the logical reasons why we shouldn't get him.  I knew we lived in a small apartment, and he was a BIG dog.  I knew all these things, and yet, I wanted him.  I wanted him with all my being.  And, as I explained all of this and more to my husband, he gently, but adamantly, said NO.  NO.  NO.  I wasn't mad, because I knew the deal we had made before I went.  But, I was persistent enough to convince him to go see him.  I knew that would hook him.  Nope.  "I've never really liked Border Collies."  I thought to myself, 'Oh yeah, you've known a lot of Border Collies, have you - tons, huh?"  But again, I wasn't mad, just crushed.  Beyond crushed.  I cried to myself in the car and prayed - out loud - that God would lead him to a good family.  That this creature, who had stolen my heart in two minutes of knowing him - would live a good life.

The next day, a Sunday, I moped and worried and pouted until my whole family finally told me to get over it.  He would be fine.  I had made a deal.  They were right.  It was a bit warmer that day, so my brother and BJ decided to go play a round of golf.  Good.  I didn't have to look at the face of the man who broke my heart into a million pieces.  Hmph.  I was NOT bitter at all.  I hung out at my parents' place all day until BJ called and he and Stevie had picked up pizza and headed to the apartment, so my Pops needed to bring me home.  My dad talked to me on the way home about all the ways I SHOULDN'T be mad at my husband over this dog.  I finally relented, and planned to apologize as soon as I saw him.  I opened the door, and I looked at BJ, standing by the couch, with THE dog at his feet. 

He and my brother had gone to the Pet Port after golf, and rescued the being that would change my life in so many ways.  I was speechless.  I truly was.  My awesome husband and wonderful Bub were grinning from ear to ear telling the story of how they had gotten him, took him to the car lot, and bathed him in cold water (the only water source there) and he hadn't so much as growled, barked or complained in any way.  They KNEW he was a good dog, and they had both felt what I felt the day before.  He had won them over in two hours. 

For the next couple of days, we debated names.  We wondered about his past, but found out from the vet that he was actually still a puppy - just barely full grown, probably not a year yet.  We tried out names on him to see if he might recognize one.  Then, we thought of the Celtics - BJ's favorite NBA team when he was little.  "Celtic?"  No.  "Bird?"  Uh uh.  "Larry?"  Absolutely not.  And as if out of a story, BJ and I at the same time blurted out, "Boston?"  And, in perfect timing, our 'Boston' looked at us like he was pleased.  That was it.  Boston.

Over the next FOURTEEN years - yes, FOURTEEN - Bossy was more than a dog could ever be.  He laid with me during my sadness of losing our first baby; he sat with me through the fear of my next pregnancy, and then welcomed Sam with open arms - despite being demoted to our 'second baby' behind Sam.  He welcomed all of our kids, and pets, and craziness.  He became best friends with my Bub's dog Jewell, and they enjoyed several years of romping around in the snow together.  He loved nothing more than chasing the kids around the yard - especially in the snow.  All of our friends knew Bos - and most of them agreed that he 'knew' them the minute they locked eyes with him.  He was a fierce protector - with a deep, scary bark.  I ALWAYS felt safe with my Bos around.  He was not a cuddler, though.  He preferred to roam the house at night, almost as if he was on shift.

In the last year, Bossy's health took a turn for the worse.  The dog was 14 - of course it took a turn for the worse.  His bones were aching, and he was diagnosed with Congestive Heart Failure.  But you know what, he still would get a little spry at times and chase one of our cats around the yard.  We were SHOCKED he made it through Christmas as his age and health was obviously affecting him greatly.  Three days ago, he started to foam and drool and his breathing was so labored that it was painful to look at him.  As we were eating lunch - as a family - at our table...I made the call to our vet.  They instructed us to bring him in, and they would put him down and end his suffering.  To say that our hearts were shattered, would seriously be the understatement of the year.  This dog - this being - this soul - was such an integral part of The Thornes. 

I bawled as I watched each of my kids hug his neck and tell him goodbye, and that they would see him again.  BJ and were both crying uncontrollably as he picked him up and put him in the car for the last time.  We arrived at the vet and they took us into the room.  At this point, he was so labored in his breathing, we honestly thought he might die on his own.  Bos walked over to where I was kneeling on the floor and lay down.  Dr. Catt gave him an injection to take away his pain and sedate him deeply.  BJ and I both were talking to him, and when the medicine hit him, he was so peaceful and breathing so calmly.  I know God was there - ready to welcome him.  As sad and broken as I was, when Dr. Catt walked in with the injection that would stop the heart of the soul that had given us so much throughout his life, I was at peace.  I put my arms around his neck - just as I had done on that miraculous first meeting fourteeen years ago and told him it was okay; we loved him, and we would be with him again.  Dr. Catt told me that when she has a patient that she has to euthanize, it's not nearly as sad when she knows it's an animal who has lived the fullest and best life possible.  That gave me so much hope and peace, and I think it shows what kind of doctor she truly is.

Boston - our journey to you and with you will be one that changed us forever.  Thank you for choosing us.  Thank you for being a Dog among Dogs.  Thank you for protecting us and loving us with every fiber of your being. You truly were, are, and will be a part of us forever.  Until we meet again, my sweet peanut butter loving boy, God Speed and Sweet Dreams.