
My four-legged son, Bogart, passed away on Friday evening. He was 15 years & 1 month old.
His health had been failing for quite some time. As I had previously written, he was an insulin dependent diabetic (5 years). He had developed arthritis in one of his back legs & had been getting anti-inflammatory meds to help with that.
However, he also had a tumor in that same leg that just kept growing. . . and it became increasingly hard for him to walk since his leg became almost too sore to use.
I had adopted Bogart when he was 4 years old. . . his former owner was a sales manager where I work & was going through a divorce. . .and the apartment that he was moving into would not allow dogs.
We met at a rest stop in the middle of Connecticut (the manager lived in Massachusetts) and Bogart went with me without complaint (he actually never even looked for his former owner). From the minute I wss given his leash he was my dog. . .to the point that he ignored my mother (she had gone with me in case I needed extra help).
From that day (I believe it was in February) until this past Friday, most of my thoughts and actions were geared around him. . . how long was I gone, who could check on him for me, where to board him when my sister got married in Las Vegas, running to the vet everytime something just "wasn't right" with him, etc.
He was my alarm clock (until recently 5:30AM was his time. . .even on the weekends), and if I was a little slow in getting his food ready he would let me know by barking up a storm. If I forgot to give him a cookie he would stand in front of the cabinet door and just wait until I got the "hint" & gave him a cookie!!
He used to love going for walks. . . until recently when it got too hard for him.
I purchased my home because of him. . . .the condo community where we originally lived was wonderful when I first got him. Unfortunately, as with many somewhat "transient" communities, the neighborhood started going a little downhill & I was concerned for my safety when walking him late at night. So, I bought a house, for him.
I can't believe how much his loss hurts. . . I knew that it would be bad, but this has been terrible. I realize that I am putting my husband, who is also hurting, through hell, but I just can't be strong anymore.
We aren't home. . .we left the house Saturday morning to get away. It hasn't helped, we are in Pennsylvania, where we have gone tons of times. . . and everywhere we go I have memories of Bogart --- "I always stopped here to bring him cookies home", "every time we were here I would call Mom to see how Bogart was when she went to check on him", etc.
This has not been as good an escape as I had hoped it would be.
And to top it off, I can't even put a picture of him on this post because I am on a hotel computer. . . and the upload from flickr is not working the way I thought that it would.
I'm probably not going to be on the computer very often. . . Bogie would always lay by my chair when I was on the computer so that I could lean over & pet him, or pick him up & cuddle while I was surfing the web.
Good bye, sweet friend. . . . I miss you desperately.
In peace and pieces,

Edited to add Mr. Bogie's picture.
We are home. . . .I have a new definition for Hell.