Remembering Bobo

Bobo, our first family dog, finished his life and passed last night. As much as we will miss him, the Bertschi family will have to absorb the majority of grief over his death.
My sister Anne and her family have grown much closer to him than my family ever had the opportunity to.
In an effort to blunt the heart slicing pain of loss, I find it appropriate to share some of my family's joyful recollections of Bobo.
The often misguided hope of finding man's best friend at your local dog pound became reality for us when our daughter Abigial convinced us to adopt four-year old Bobo from the Plumas County Animal Shelter in Portola, California.
My wife, Holly, son Buster, and the aforemntioned Abby say that they looked into his droopy eyes and immediately called me at work to meet them for an adoption.
Holly, who never had a family dog as a child, was actually a little intimidated by his size and low-pitched bark. The thought seems ridiculous now after experiencing his loving and docile personality. They called me for some re-assurance that such a large, scruffy dog would be okay with our four year old and two year old children. I have to admit being a bit surprised by their choice given that he hadn't had a haircut in what I could accurately estimate now to be two years. Bobo, with his rich, liver colored coat, looked like small bear.
The story given to us by the shelter worker was that Bobo was dropped off by a family who was moving into an apartment in the city. That's a nice explanation for those of you who believe in coincidence, I however, like to think that an angel sent her loyal companion to temporarily assist with the manufacture of happiness on earth. Any other explanation is close-minded foolishness.
Holly still reminds me that I quickly signed the adoption paper, paid the fee and ran off to make a tee-time. My niece Hailey Petersen, who even at four years old had extensive large animal herding experience, was visiting us at the time. She helped Holly load Bobo into our car and purchase the appropriate goods to care for a full grown male English Springer Spaniel with a little California Brown Bear somewhere in his bloodlines.
As I played golf I thought about the great family dogs I had as a child, Lucy the fat old mutt that let us kids use her as a pillow, Luke the half German Sheppard half Pit Bull given to us by Hailey Petersen's grandparents, and Pepper who was a Christmas puppy from Aunt Jeanie when I was eight and died my first year of college while in the care of my sister Dawn Marie Petersen. I've just realized that both of my sisters have inherited dogs from me and......well we won't discuss the outcome any further. I don't blame either of you, they both lived to be pretty old dogs.
When I got home from working/golfing (I am one of the few people in the world who can accurately interchange those two words)I was pleased to see my two-year old son Buster harmlessly wrestling on the floor with our new family member Bobo. How Bobo knew to control his degrees of gentleness depending on who was playing with him is also only explained by divine interference, dogs are not that smart.
Nobody ever claimed Bobo was intelligent, but let's be honest, intelligence is overrated in a companion. Blissful ignorance and guileless loyalty are the attributes Bobo possessed in excess.
The next day, I thought I would take Bobo out to the Feather River and evaluate his retrieving skills, he is after all a springer spaniel. Although I didn't discover much talent for swimming or bringing thrown sticks back, some kids said, "is that dog's name Bobo?", "he was our friends dog and he is the best dog ever!!" Then they told me about his crazy obsession for chasing light. Bobo would excitedly bark and optimistically chase a flashlight beam, laser pointer, or even the sun's reflection from his own dog collar endlessly. Maybe they reminded him of his previous heavenly owner.
I've had several dogs in my life but two events specifically endeared Bobo to me.
Summer in the Northern Sierra Nevada mountains is perfect for camping with the family. One weekend I took advantage of our locale and found a primitive tent-camping site near Buck's Lake.
I have been camping quite a bit but was a little nervous when each campsite came equipped with bear lockers for your food. All of the bear warning signs convinced Holly and her teenage sister Lindsey to lock themselves in our Jeep for the night leaving myself and my two young children in a tent. Bobo stayed awake all night just outside the tent entrance growling at and even chasing sounds the forest made, always staying close to the tent but never letting his guard down. I know because I slept very little and was easily awakened by movement in the bushes and a couple of low growls from our loyal protection. The next morning other campers confirmed the presence of bears in their camps the previous evening.
Another time at our home, I was awakened by at 3am by wild barking from Bobo who was very interested in getting outside through our sliding glass door. When I opened the door and clicked on the outside porch light I saw two large bears eating our garbage after tearing down the deck railing to get to them. Bobo did not hesitate to chase them back into the woods.
The following night the bears returned and I awakened my family to see them through the window. After these two events our kids dubbed him "Bobo the Bear Killer".
I'm pretty sure that a springer spaniel is no match for any kind of bear, but Bobo was brave and fulfilled his adoptive calling of providing Holly peace of mind.
Not long after these events we moved from our house in the mountains with a yard to a townhome in the desert, no yard and no dogs allowed.
I asked the Bertschi family to take care of our dog for awhile until our living situation was more accommodating and they graciously accepted. Even though he was offered back to us a couple of times, I knew Bobo had found his permanent home. The worn out spot on one end of the family sofa where Bobo sat(something he was never allowed to do in our house)told me so.
Only days ago, our children spent the night with the Bertschi family and again were exposed to the gentle friendship of Bobo Bertschi. When we picked the kids up, Holly expressed her wish that our disobedient, rambunctious, new puppy Buddy will eventually become the companion that Bobo is.
I feel very lucky to have had him in our lives and that the circumstance of traveling at the right time allowed us to sort of say goodbye to him, if you believe in coincidence.