Boo Radley: Memoir of A Dog
A year ago to date we lost our darling dog, Boo Radley. Jamie and I sit together compiling photos and videos, diving back into the life she lived with us from the evening she entered our home to the morning we kissed her last. Most days we talk about Boo - how the last time we visited Yosemite or Carmel, Boo was with us. Or how much Boo would like to eat a marshmallow anytime we make hot chocolate. Her presence in our life is as if she never left, and yet the reality still strikes us. Even now as we clean, we are sure to not disturb her tennis ball beneath the filing cabinet, where it rolled under so many times, and where she would claw at it and whine until we grabbed it for her. And even though her ashes sit on our mantle, before I open my eyes in the morning I imagine her sleepy eyes begging for 30 more minutes before we need to get up.
And so, with a heavy heart and happy tears, we recount a life frozen in time - cut and stored as a diamond in a bag of gems that are memories.
Very first photo take of Boo!
The Early Years
I was to spend the evening studying at Ben’s. I remember setting down my bookbag, heavy with Clinically Oriented Anatomy, as a shaggy dog zoomed past me in pursuit of a tennis ball. Ben and his roommate Shannon had found a dog under a truck earlier that day, showered it twice and took it to the Vet. As evening came around and I entered door right, Boo Boo (as they called her for her numerous booboos) was focused on her performance as a ball player. We never did open up our textbooks, and I marveled at how she dropped the ball on command or how precise she was in catching them. And then it happened. She dropped her ball and jumped in my lap. I scratched her belly and made woof sounds that no human should make, and it was the first time anyone heard her speak. Boo woofed back, and it was one soul finding a mate.
A couple weeks later Jamie and I picked Boo Radley up, as she was Boo Boo no more, and we became a family of three. Jamie did not know what to think of this Aussie/Border Collie mutt - she was practically toothless, hairless on her backside, and smelled no matter how much you bathed her. It did not take long for Jamie to fall for this doggy. Boo Radley had a playful energy that matched Jamie’s, and the two were up and ready to play with each sunrise. So much so I remember waking up one morning, my backside lined with all of her toys. She ran out of toys and found Tupperware to bring me, and I was so disoriented waking up and having to apparently choose between squeaky animal toys and Rubbermaid.
I found Boo Radley in Atlanta, but within a couple years, I graduated and we moved to Charlotte NC to live with Jamie. At Highland Mill Loft apartments she gained popularity with the surrounding neighbors. One called her “Bo Diddly” and another would sing “Me and you, and a dog named Boo” every time they saw her. Our friends who lived beneath us would see Boo Radley’s head leaning out a window, dropping a toy down on the sidewalk for them to come up and play with her. At Dog Bar in Noda, she would beeline anytime a fluffy white dog entered the doggy club, bypassing Great Danes as if they were nothing but trees in her way. Boo always had a limp from the day we took her in. But it didn’t slow her down, not if toys were in the equation. And though she was the caboose when we hiked up Cold Mountain, she did six plus miles all the way to the top of that mountain, dunking her body in the ravines to cool down during the day and plopping in Jamie’s sleeping bag to warm up by night. These days shimmer in my memory of her young, and I imagine her Elysian Fields are instead walks in Noda and playing fetch on endless stretches of grass.
The Middle Years
Boo Radley spent 4 months with Matt and Julie as Jamie and I traveled SouthEast Asia. She was so happy and healthy when we returned. “You can keep her here if you like,” Dad said, knowing well enough that she would be moving out West with us. We packed our cars with clothes, books, and bedding - all the necessities for a move to California. We propped Boo’s bed on top of a scrabble board, stuffed a violin in front of her, and stabilized the side of her bed with a basket of shoes. For four days we drove from Ohio to California, stopping to see Chicago, Palmer University, Denver, Las Vegas, and finally Los Angeles.
We discovered California over the next several years together. In San Francisco we had a healthy, not-so healthy routine of beginning each evening walking to Boba Guys. With boba drinks in hand, and balls and frisbees in our pockets, Boo Radley would lead the way to Alamo Square. With the fog rolling over the city, we would play until the city lights shone in the distance. Reluctant, Boo would follow us home. Luckily Sam would be outside the liquor store with a snack for her to look forward to. Her first beach was Baker Beach, and we remember how curious and timid she was stepping toward waves, bracing and lowering her body as they rushed over her paws.
The first few years between Charlotte and Atlanta we would have friends sit for her often, but in California we took her with us everywhere. Boo’s adventures ranged from Yosemite to Joshua Tree, camping in the Big Sur, Mendocino, and Mount Shasta, running in the sand dunes of Death Valley, and hiking outside Mammoth Lakes and Tahoe. Even when her limp worsened, and her pace slowed, we brought orthopedic beds with us and carried her over rocky terrain. For holidays she came with us to pick out pumpkins and Christmas trees. She would follow us in hay mazes and help us unwrap every present as if it were a squeaky toy or treats. Jamie would take her to work two days out of the week - Boo’s excitement upon entering Jamie’s work was adorable. She would race up the stairs and sit on her dog bed, knowing Jamie would give her a beef stick as a reward for good behavior. Teddy would watch her while we would travel, walking her amongst the street art in the Mission. Her community in California grew with the people she met, and we found a place to call home that matched her excitement and zest for fun.
The Last Years
Even though the next chapter for her was a slow decline over a few years, it did not hold her back from doing what she loved. She took breaks during fetch, and her neighborhood loops turned from large loops to short loops, and eventually to an out and back walk. We started using the Boo-mobile: a cart to wheel her around when we went to skate parks and national parks. A cart to help preserve her legs for chasing the ball. We got braces for her wrist, little booties for uneven surfaces, and traction socks for hardwood floors.
She had laser and water treadmill therapy, and we would sometimes walk out in Lake Tahoe and have her swim back to shore. We kept her moving, and tried new ways to support her as her limp grew worse. There were months where she would be doing great, and would defy our fears of her aging. Many people said “Boo seems to get better with age,” and in many ways he was right. She would sleep with us now, her snores coming from between Jamie and I. The COVID Pandemic hit and we stayed home together often, as did most people in San Francisco. The neighbors would sit at the window with their coffee, waiting for Boo to walk by. Some would shout “you got this, Boo!” from their windows, and others would approach me in the grocery and ask how she is doing. We moved apartments during this time, and Boo would sit outside in her tiny garden listening to the bustle of the streets. Jamie worked from home, and Boo would curl up beside her feet while she sat at the computer. We discovered the Fillmore neighborhood towing her in her cart behind us. As a family we would sit by the fireplace and occasionally Boo would also have a plate of Filet Mignon for dinner. When COVID curfew lifted, she became the mascot to our Curfew Crew weekly skate night.
When her mobility got worse, we got her a hot pink wheel chair. At the skate park she would chase Jamie around the gentle slopes. We carried her where we could, and camping consisted of fitting in her orthopedic bed. There were days where we couldn’t make it to the park, so we rolled up the carpet and moved the furniture aside, and Boo in her wheel chair would fetch in the living room her balls and Nearly-Headless-Chick. We made sure her diapers were colorful and comfortable, and like a rock start she never skipped a beat.
The Last Days
Seeing how much her body was giving out, we were in disbelief when we needed to consider an end of life plan. Her pressure sores were not healing, and she stopped trying to walk in her wheel chair. Our wedding was two months away, and we had to focus on saying goodbye to a soul that had been a part of our story from day one. While we found Boo when she was already four, Jamie and I had been together for four years. In a way, we felt as if we were all meant to exist on this planet together, and so to put her to sleep felt like sawing off a limb would.
“As if I had a string somewhere under my left ribs, tightly knotted to a similar string in you. And if you were to leave I'm afraid that cord of communion would snap. And I have a notion that I'd take to bleeding inwardly.”
-Jane Eyre
People tell you that putting an animal to sleep is merciful, that it’s the right thing to do - but it’s only their way of rationalizing it. The reality of it, is that it feels nothing but wrong. You are filled with anger towards yourself and you swear you will never do it again.
We planned a month of celebration for Boo Radley, thinking of all that she likes to do. Before we knew what would soon happen, Dad and Julia came to visit. They knew it would be their last time seeing her, and had plenty of cuddles as we watched American Grafitti, and Dad did great on diaper duty. We took her to Tahoe, so we could hold her in the lake, allowing the water to lap at her sides. She laid on the sand and looked to the sunrise over the Sierra. Another weekend we glamped with her in the Big Sur, and I remember holding her as we sat on a fallen redwood tree, and she perked her ears to listen to the Blue Jays. Jane and Jim helped feed her by the campfire, and Boo nearly bit off several fingers in her delight for burnt marshmallows. We had a party on Baker Beach for her friends and neighbors to come and say goodbye. Strangers passed by and wished her a happy journey over the “rainbow bridge.”
On August 20th we booked a Veterinarian to come to our home and put her to sleep. The night before, we watched “All Dogs Go to Heaven,” and took turns watching her sleep beside us. In the morning we went to Alta Plaza Park with her ball one last time. She had a breakfast of bacon, eggs, and burnt marshmallows. Jamie put on music and danced with her. We didn’t speak much - we didn’t have to. We felt her heart and her breath, and then the silence that followed when she left us. You wish you would see her breath or her soul raise above you like a wisp of fog, to know that she becomes the air above you and fall to be the soil beneath you. You want nothing more at that moment to be consumed by her.
We cleaned her and wrapped her in her blanket, putting Nearly-Headless-Chick under her arm. We felt lost in the hours and days that followed. We walked to Alamo Square and got Boba as we always did with her, and then we walked some more. Boo Radley touched most corners of San Francisco, and we had to walk them all. The next morning we went to the coast, and walked through the Monterey Bay aquarium. In the sea lion’s eyes and in the otter’s play we saw Boo. We realized that no matter what we do next, or where we go, it will always be in search of her in some way. And she will be there. Always.
