When we picked you up, you were long and tiny. You were so cute as a puppy! You’d flown all the way from New York to Minnesota, in a light pink kennel. Mom and Dad cried in the car, because you reminded them of the day they picked up Liesel–our previous dachshund–and surprised my grandparents. We’d gone a year without a dog, and now we were getting a new furry friend.
Abbie and I were very excited to get a new dog. Growing up, we were accustomed to having a dog around. As you can imagine, it felt pretty weird after putting Liesel to sleep to no longer have a dog: there was no one to greet us when we came home from work or school. Our house felt like it was lacking a soul.
But, with you in our lives, you filled the hole in our hearts. Boggie you sure kept us busy with walks, puppy class, feeding you at 4:30 after school was done, and trying to make sure you didn’t have any accidents in the house. (This, unfortunately, didn’t go as planned. This is why, throughout your life, we had a gate separating you–and later Bentley, your golden friend–from the dining room.)
I remember the night you learned how to bark. It was Halloween, I was in junior high. Dad, Abbie, and I went over to church and went around to all the cars packed with candy. It was during our first stop that Halloween that you discovered you could bark. And, oh boy, that was the last stop you made with us. I’m pretty sure we dropped you off at home, so we could keep getting candy. Now that I’m older, looking back, I think it’s funny.
Your name comes the Bogan Flats Campground in Colorado. When you were younger, we took our picture next to the sign on the side of the road.
You loved Colorado. It was a place where you could run free, sniff out new smells, and eat things that were, well, not puppy chow. (Insert stories about you eating a bird wing, and finding a dead mouse at the Little House.) Once, we let you swim for a bit in the hot tub. I’m not quite sure what you thought about swimming in warm water. Your little legs kept instinctively paddling, which was always fun to watch.
When Bentley came along, you seemed a little skeptical. You paced around her kennel, and Dad told you to “be nice.” We’d never had two dogs, and weren’t quite sure how you would take to a puppy. You fooled us, though! The two of you became the best of friends. You’d lie down on the kitchen floor so our new fuzzy golden retriever puppy could play with you. Eventually, you would sleep next to each other as you got older. Bentley wouldn’t go outside without you. She’ll come and get me to put her out, or if it’s getting close to “puppy chow time.”
Don’t worry. I think she misses you, but she could tell that you were sick. We still keep your food bowl and your leash out. There’s lots of pictures of you in our house. You were a beautiful dog, with a stubbornness only a hound dog could possess. I miss hearing you bark if we’re in the other room. We keep the gate open now a lot of the time–you would have jumped at the chance to get out into the rest of the house.
I hope that heaven is everything we humans dream it to be. I’m sure that Grandma Lucy and Grandpa Curt are pretty excited to have another dog with them. I hope you’re able to run free, eat as much cheese, meat, carrots, ice cream and rice as you please. (I’m sure everything we ate in front of you looked mouth-watering.)
I love you high as the sky and deep as the ocean. I miss you very much.