Today was a hard day. I had to say goodbye to my fuzzy friend, Boscarelli "Bosco" DeNigris, the very first pet I had in my adult life and the longest pet I've ever had. He lived with me in my apartment, my 1st house, and my current home. He saw me get married twice, and had to put up with a couple of visitors in between. He also saw me become a Mom, and graciously stepped down from the #1 spot when Sir Joe entered the picture.
Bryan felt something was going to happen last night and I guess he was right.
I was getting ready this morning and saw Bosco start to pee and poop in my bedroom, the place where he sleeps. I yelled at him, clapped my hands, even went over to swat at his butt...because I thought he was just doing it to get back at our dog (they've done this back and forth for years). But something was different today. When I went to swat at him, he kind of fell over, as if he was stunned. He scooted under the bed and even though I tried hard to get him out, he refused to budge.
I came home shortly before 1pm, and Bosco was laying under the bench in my bedroom, breathing shallow and laying in a weird position. I put a bowl of his favorite tuna in front of him and he did not budge. I left him alone.
I went back upstairs around 2pm and his head was hidden, his body looked stiff, his tail was puffed out, and some of his hair was standing up. I started to cry as I feared he was dead. I was too afraid to touch him...to touch the little fuzzy kid I referred to as my baby for the longest time.
Bryan came home at 10 to 5 and confirmed my fear: Bosco was dead. I called Pet Smart and we brought him there to be looked at and to plan his cremation.
While we waited, I knelt down beside his crate and began to cry. I cried so much, I could barely see. I had been crying like that on and off since his passing. This was so real and so unknown. And I felt the biggest hole in my heart.
We sat for a long time and then a tech came in. He revealed what Bryan had felt: a large tumor around Bosco's shoulder. How could we have missed that? A doctor came in and drained some liquid from the growth. It was orange and not white, which meant it was more likely a tumor than an abscess.
The tech came back in, took our money and showed us the box that Bosco will come back in.
I took a picture of Bosco, said a prayer, cried some more and rubbed his tail. I was finally ready to say goodbye. But was I really?
Joey fought back tears and dealt with his grief the only way he knows how: playing video games.
We left PetSmart and I cried the whole way home.
As I entered our house, I heard Joey's little voice quietly say, as he touched my arm, "It's ok...about Bosco." My son consoled me!!!! That is the silver lining to this very gray and dreary day..
Rest in peace, sweet fuzzy Bosco. May you roam safely in God's backyard and know that you were always very loved, even when I didn't always show it. And I know you loved me, every time you sat behind me in my office, while I worked through the night. I love you buddy. And I miss you more than I could ever imagine, more than words can say. I will fall asleep tonight, thinking of all the times you snuggled up with me and drooled on my shoulder. Dr, Marsh used to tell me it was your way of showing me you loved me. You truly were my special pet and I will always love you. Goodbye, friend.