We had to say goodbye to him this week. He was nearly 13 years old, so it wasn't unexpected and he'd had a long life. Yet it was still difficult.
Steve adopted him when he was 1 1/2 years old, and they'd spent more than a decade together. They didn't play fetch, because Bo didn't do that (even though he was a Golden Retriever). Instead, he panted heavily due to his hypothyroidism. He passed gas all the time, bad enough that we had to buy special pills to add to his food. He drooled and shedded, which meant constant floor clean-up in his wake.
I swear he never actually tasted any treats because he gulped them down so quickly. And occasionally he ran off, so we'd have to get in the car and frantically circle the neighborhood until we found him...sometimes with a new friend (like the little girl down the street of our old house, who nicknamed him Pickles during the time he'd spent with her).
But, despite his sometimes irritating qualities, we loved him very much. He was always happy and smiling, even at the end, when his cancer had clearly spread throughout his body. He used to greet me in the morning with tail wagging in whirligig circles, spend the day at my feet beneath my desk, and lie down next to our bed at night with a contented sigh. His presence was comforting, and I miss it now that he is gone.
Whether it's a dog or another beloved pet, I hope you have your own Bo (now or in your memories) to cherish, Inky friends. Thank you for sharing this bittersweet moment with us. :-)