I just read your book and it really touched me. My husband and I lost our beloved Bobo Samantha on July 3, 2007. Bobo was the best dog ever, a stray who wandered in to a bus depot in Brooklyn in early 1993 and was lucky enough to be taken in by a dog lover who also happened to be the sister of a co-worker. My husband adopted Bobo and we were lucky to have over 14 years with her. Like Sprite she was older, but not so much, we think she was probably 1 1/2 or 2 years old. I also wondered about her life before us, she had a line around her muzzle which we thought indicated she had her muzzle wired. But mostly we just loved her and she us. She had her health problems as she got older and I will always remember picking up her liver medication at the pharmacy. I felt funny at first, but only the first time.

In early 2007 she had gotten very fragile and I stressed on where to board her while we were on vacation. We try to have someone dog sit, but in July it was not going to be possible. Bobo had always been stoic about the kennel, the same cannot be said for our younger dog Nani. But Bobo was so fragile. We had finally come to terms with the kennel, as we had no other alternative. I came home from work on July 3, 2007 and as I walked in the door Nani was running back and forth carrying on, more than usual. No sign of Bobo. I called her and no response. Finally I found her behind the front door. Her legs had given out on the wood floor and she could not get up. I had rugs all over because this had happened before. Generally I would pick her up, get her steady and all would be well. But not this time. My sister helped me take her to the vet.

Our regular vet, who had taken such good care of Bobo for most of her life was not in. The vet we saw gave us the bad news, it was not going to get better and I had a choice to make. I had imagined that my husband would deal with this when the time came, but he was away. It was the hardest decision I have ever made. The vet gave me some time to decide, and to leave me with my wonderful dog. I told my sister if he gave me any more time I was going to grab my Bobo and run. But I didn’t. I stayed with her and tried to be brave.

As I type this I am looking at a picture taken of Bo in 1993 and I miss her, but am happy for the years we had. We buried her ashes in the yard and planted an azalea .
In October we adopted a retired greyhound and he is wonderful dog, but I still miss my Bobo.

Jeanne from NY