The Story of Bosco

We were one week away from our wedding when we found Bosco.

We were walking through the mall when we passed a puppy store. We went inside with no intention of bringing anyone home. We already had two dachshunds, Panino and Baguette. We also had an upcoming wedding, followed by a lengthy honeymoon, ahead of us. We just wanted to hold a few little bodies and then go on with our day.

And then we saw him.

He was a tiny red dachshund sitting in a glass cage, staring out at us. I picked him up and tucked him into the crook of my neck. He fit there so perfectly, as if that spot had been waiting for him.

We held him and loved on him for a while, but then we did the sensible thing: we put him back and walked away.

The wedding came and went. So did the honeymoon. More than a month later, we found ourselves back at the same mall. Once again, we passed the puppy store and decided to go inside, squeeze a few puppies, and then continue with our day.

And there he was.

That same little red dachshund was still sitting in that same glass cage, staring at us. He had been there all that time, waiting.

There was no walking away from him twice.

A Visa came out of the wallet, payments were arranged, and Bosco came home with us. Just like that, he became our love child.

Bosco may have been small, but his personality was enormous. He was vocal, opinionated, and never had any trouble telling us exactly what was on his mind. His little whines were a daily reminder that he was our funny, demanding, unforgettable little boy.

He fit right in with Panino and Baguette and went on to live a long, full life. He played with his brother and sister, visited the Oregon coast, and followed us through one chapter of our lives after another.

About six years after Bosco joined our family, we had to say goodbye to Baguette. Later, we left Reno with our two boys, Panino and Bosco, still trying to figure out where we belonged. We moved from place to place—from Long Beach, Washington, all the way to Hawaii.

Bosco thrived on island life. He loved chasing chickens and lying beneath the banana trees. For a little dachshund we found in a mall puppy store, he became quite the traveler.

Before we left Long Beach for Hawaii, we had to say goodbye to Panino. Bosco was the last of our three, and from then on, we had him all to ourselves.

We sadly left Hawaii and moved to Moses Lake, Washington. We had four good years with him there. He had a big, beautiful backyard, and we treasured having him there with us.

As he grew older, though, we began to notice changes. As time went on, his hearing faded, and he lost much of his sight. Watching him grow older was bittersweet. He was truly the cutest older dog ever, and we felt truly blessed to be able to love him through every change.

Sadly, we slowly noticed that his personality was starting to fade, and sometimes it felt as though our Bosco was no longer entirely there. We couldn’t put our finger on what was happening until one day it became clear: he was developing dementia.

The decision to end your pet’s life is one of the hardest decisions I have ever had to make. We have done it three times now. It takes a level of selflessness that you do not expect. You have to balance the very delicate timing of when it is right for that life to end.

It is not a snap decision. It is easy to make the decision selfishly because you want them in your life longer. The selfless part is balancing both their quality of life and their level of pain.

Not a day goes by that my husband and I don’t think about him. Sometimes, in the quiet of the night, I swear to God he is still there in the room with us. I can hear that familiar whine—the one that once drove us crazy and that I would now give anything to hear again.

Bosco was definitely my favorite of the three. I know you aren’t supposed to have favorites, but I did. He was the one I knew would eventually and unintentionally break my heart.

I won’t say he was the best dog, because every dog is the best dog to the person who loves them. That is the beautiful thing about dogs. You are simply living your life, moving from one chapter to the next—and somewhere along the way, if you’re lucky, there’s a dog.

That dog becomes part of everything. He follows you through weddings and honeymoons, across coastlines and oceans, beneath banana trees and into beautiful backyards. He fills ordinary days with noise, laughter, frustration, comfort, and love. And without you even realizing it, he makes your whole life better.

Bosco was that dog for us.

I am so blessed that we got to love him and that he chose us—not once, but twice—from behind that little glass window.

He will be forever loved, forever remembered, and forever missed.