Eulogy for The World’s Best Dog in the World.

Yesterday was a heartbreaking day as we laid old Bodhisattva (aka Bodhi or Bo) to rest. He hadn’t smiled in some time. He was arthritic and in constant pain. He was weak and he could no longer rely on his body to do the things he needed it to do. He slept almost 24 hours a day, yet he was always exhausted. It was time. Time to go before he lost all his dignity. 

Dignity. It was the perfect word for Bo. He was a dignified soul. I wish I could say that we got Bo as a little puppy full of promise with tiny, sharp teeth nipping at our heels. Had we, his life would have been so very different. But his puppyhood was, by all signs, a horrible existence. What is documented begins around spring of 2009 in a shelter in the south where he was known as Leo. We’ve no idea how long he was there, only that he was rescued from the shelter by the Atlantic Region Central Border Collie Rescue (ARCBCR) the day before he was set to be euthanized – and that’s probably why they took him. He wasn’t a Border Collie, but he was a beautiful, young dog who deserved a loving home. “Leo” was brought to a private shelter in Bumpass, Virginia where he proved himself to be a loner, fearful of people, especially men. He was so handsome and sad and the only dog to be invited into the home of the shelter owner, a privilege granted to very few dogs – ever. She obviously saw something in him.

Soon she arranged for him to go to a foster home 70 miles away in Alexandria. But on the very first day at his foster home, after a short walk on the leash, the foster father unhooked the leash before opening the front door; there was a noise, Leo was spooked, and he bolted. Once again, he was a dog on the run. 

Quickly a group of volunteers formed (they called themselves “Friends of Leo”) who dedicated the next 5 ½ weeks to finding him. They posted fliers and tracked sightings. They kept a map of where he’d been seen, set traps and even called in a tracker dog. They posted on Facebook and blogged about the search. Some of the information still exists on the web at http://findleo.blogspot.com/2009/07/update-from-richmond.html. (When you read the blog, you’ll find more photos and history of his sightings in the sidebar links.) 

Of course, at that time, I knew nothing of this dog that would someday save my life. 

Once he was returned to ARCBCR they posted him on Petfinder where I saw his beautiful face; and the rest, as they say, is history. Bo was a broken soul when we adopted him in 2009. He was so fearful of men that Rob could not make eye contact with Bo for several weeks after we brought him home, lest Bo would lose control of his bladder. Being in a shelter was hardly the worst of Bo’s past. He had a persistent limp, so we took him to a specialist. There, x-rays revealed that Bo had a bullet in his right rear thigh (you could feel it under his skin) and both BB and shotgun pellets throughout his body. His right rear leg was shorter than the other because, as the doctor explained, the bullet that broke his femur must have occurred when he was.

maybe nine months old, and his femur stopped growing at that time. What had happened to this poor dog? Why was he shot? Was he caught raiding a chicken coup? Had teenage boys used him for target practice? No wonder he was fearful. This poor boy! Ultimately, we had an orthotic made for Bo that helped even out his walk (all in hopes of prolonging future hip issues). 

Bo was a dog of few words (barks), yet he taught us so much. He taught us to give him space, love him from a distance, feed him, walk him, and let him have his own mental and physical space until he was ready to trust and love us in return. He taught us not to cuddle, but to be ever present and reliable; and in return he would do the same. Well, that was his modus operandi until his first snow. That was also the day that we got, oh, around two feet of snow. That day, Bo became a puppy again. In the snow he jumped for joy, fetched and ran, dove into the snow headfirst, buried toys, jumped up and wrestled us to the ground. He was an entirely different dog. The snow brought out the party in Bo!

 

Then, in 2010 Bo performed a miracle. He began to exhibit a strange behavior whenever I was sitting on the sofa. He would come over to me, put his paws up on me and tap me in the chest with his nose. One day he did it in front of his trainer who suggested that Bo might be smelling something. Something like cancer. Several weeks after that, when I had my annual checkup with my doctor, I told her the story of Bo’s behavior. As a result, she took a deeper dive into my health and asked tons of questions about my heart and my physical activities. At the end of the appointment, she scheduled me for a stress test. I failed. Next, a heart catheterization which was stopped suddenly upon discovering a Widow Maker. A Widow Maker is a big blockage of the aortal artery that, when blood gets 100% blocked, is usually fatal within minutes.The survival rate is only 12%. I was on the operating table within a week. I had no symptoms and no history of heart disease (well, except for shortness of breath whenever I tried to walk uphill). Were it not for Bo I would likely have died within months, maybe weeks. Bo saved my life! 

Two years later my life changed again – this time it was my spine. After my first back surgery we

trained Bo to pick things up for me and help me to get up from a seated position. I took him to service dog training. He then became my service dog. He was my constant companion; I was his charge. He took this very seriously, even staying at the rehab center with me when I recuperated from my back surgeries. He accompanied me to all my book signings and speaking engagements. He was with me at my doctor visits, where the nurses so looked forward to seeing him. He was always so dignified and proud, handsome, quiet, smart, attentive. 

Rob was Bo’s caretaker. He walked and fed Bo. He brushed and bathed Bo. He was Bo’s best friend. They often communicated without words – a look was all it took for these two to understand one another. Their short “dog walks” soon became long walks to the lake or to the paths in the woods. Rob would take Bo canoeing on the lake, or swimming in it, where Bo proved to be a great swimmer. On very hot days Bo would sit in the lake. On cold winter days, Bo hunted for and then pounced on mice in the reeds. 

In 2010 we adopted a cat, Ms. Beanz (named that for the mixed brown colors in her coat), to keep Bo company. We went to Providence Animal Shelter and settled on the floor of the cat room. The cat wrangler let cats out of their cages one by one. They were all wary of us and steered clear, except for Ms. Beanz. She walked up to Bo, they touched noses, and we all went home together. 

 

In 2011 we adopted another companion for Bo. This was a five-month-old pup we named Banjo. On the day Banjo was delivered to our home, Bo taught us that dogs can feel compassion and can instantly step up to care for a needy animal. Banjo was a very frightened pup, unwilling to leave the crate in the back of his Foster Parent’s car. Banjo was shaking and whimpering. It was the first time in his life that he had been separated from his brother, and it was traumatic for him. The drive alone was an hour long. As we humans gathered in the street trying to figure out what we could do to comfort Banjo and get him out of the crate, Bo stepped up. He meandered quietly across the street to the opened-door crate and sniffed Banjo, who stopped shaking almost immediately. We watched as Bo stepped back a little from the crate and car, turned around, and walked back across the street to our house. Banjo delicately exited the crate, jumped down from the car, and followed Bo. Bo led Banjo to the bushes in our front yard and started to dig. We wondered what the heck Bo was doing – he’d never gone under those bushes before. When he finished digging, Bo moved next to the shallow depression he had dug in the soil between the bushes and Banjo settled into it. Bo then laid on the ground next to Banjo, both of them under the bushes. This caring and compassion just amazed us all as we welled up with tears. 

From that day, that very moment, those two dogs were inseparable. Bo taught Banjo everything – from proper behavior in the house, to how to roll down hills on his back. He showed Banjo how to relax in the canoe, how to swim, how to retrieve, when to bark (and not bark) and how to go through life calmly and with great confidence. He showed Banjo how to work as a service partner and brace and help me. They even passed their Canine Good Citizen test together! 

It wasn’t until the beginning of 2020 that Bo started to slow down - eleven years after we adopted him.  He’d decided on his own that he no longer wanted to go in the car and work to take care of me. Banjo was handling that job beautifully. Bo just wanted to lay around and watch the world from our window seat or, as we call it, the quadruped couch. His hair on his face was getting whiter by the month. The stairs were more and more difficult for him, but he insisted on spending his days in the basement office with Rob, his evenings on the main floor with everyone, and his bedtime on the third floor in our bedroom. Eventually, he became a “once a day” dog - wanting to go outside only once a day - after dinner. We never knew his real age. When we adopted Bo, one vet suggested he was three (which would make him 16 today and another vet suggested he was more like 5 (which would make him 18 today!) But however old he was, he always maintained his pride and dignity. 

We hope that we provided Bo with the love and respect he deserved. We hope that his life here and the joy we shared helped him to forget the trauma of his puppy years. And we hope that he felt our gratitude for his trust and loyalty, his hard work, and his service to me. Our gratitude also goes to the Atlantic Region Central Border Collie Rescue (ARCBCR) for rescuing Bo from the shelter, to Friends of Leo (and Nancy Despeaux) for tracking him down and recapturing him in Alexandria, to PetFinder for their very existence where we discovered and adopted Bo, to Providence Animal Center, who allowed Bo to enter the cat room and sit on the floor with me while we let the cats decide who wanted to come home with us (Ms Beanz), to the Doctors and staff at Ludwigs Corner Veterinary Hospital who have loved and cared for us all, to Jim Alaimo and Mark Hardin at My Pet’s Brace for making Bo’s orthotic, and to our extended family members, Heather Leach and Becky Noetzel for making the long trek to Bumpass, VA, to bring Bo home – a trip that changed our lives. 

Bo, you set a high bar for us all. Our hearts will hurt until we join you again on the Rainbow Bridge. Now you can run without borders, with no fears and no captors running after you. Run where there are no guns and no cages. Run free – and thank you for being our friend. 

Love, Jane and Rob, your canine companions Banjo and Betty White, and your feline friends Lady Bug, Beatrix, and of course, Benny