06/27/2019
A year ago, Bo, a Rottweiler who swam three times a week at The Dog Dive, passed on. On his way to the Rainbow Bridge, he took time to give me a life changing gift. I used writing my reactions as a way to process what had happened. With his mom Kay's permission, I now share it with you as a memorial to him.
My Ordinary Hands
I look at my ordinary hands. They spent hundreds of hours mastering the French horn, fixing meals for my family, writing lesson plans, helping upset children regain control, and recently doing Water Work with dogs at The Dog Dive. But I never considered them anything special, just as a tool – a means to an end. My view of them was now forever changed by Bo as he prepared to leave this realm to move to the next.
That day in June of 2018, Bo sat on the deck of The Dog Dive’s pool. He wasn’t supposed to be there. He was supposed to be at the National Obedience Championships representing as the number one Rottweiler in the nation. He wasn’t supposed to need a pink pool noodle around his neck to help hold up his tired head. Just two weeks before, he had set the pool’s record for the number of laps completed – even with sprints included. Now, fast growing tumors, including a large one in his right lung, were claiming his life. He had perked up at home when he heard the word “swim” and came in for what we thought would be his last time. He did a version of all his favorite activities, ending with a magically relaxing float while staring into Kay and Bob’s eyes.
Now, sitting nobly on the deck, Bo surveyed the pool inch by inch. His eyes met mine as l looked up from in the pool, my arms resting on the deck. In all the time I worked with him, I received one approving nose bump after an especially fun game, so I wasn’t prepared for his next decision. Bo stood up and walked to edge of the pool. He leaned down, and with careful purpose, kissed the palm of each of my hands. He used his nose to turn my hands over and kissed the back of them. Next, he repeated his behavior with each arm. He then for the first time, slowly and firmly covered my face with kisses. Bo turned to walk away, paused, came back, kissed my palms again, and gave a quick lick on my nose before leaving with Kay. We all thought it was for the last time.
Two days later, Bo’s condition had deteriorated. He hurt, didn’t want to be touched, showed no signs of pleasure. Still, when asked if he wanted to go swimming, he stood right up with bright eyes indicating, “Of course!” We all hoped he could achieve a quiet pain reducing last float.
Bo had other ideas. He did shorter versions of his favorites this time, but he did them all. When presented the toy signaling time for cool down, he took it, refused to get in the pool, and carried the toy up the ramp instead. I thought, “Well, it’s over. He’s had enough. He doesn’t owe us a float.” Ah Bo! He spit out the cool down toy and picked up the new squeaky shark Kay had bought him. He brought it down the ramp, stood on our underwater table, and initiated a game of catch with his mom. They played and played while we laughed and cheered.
At last it was enough. He slid into the water and responded to his cool down cue, “Slow, Bo; slow Bo,” until he eased into a comfortable float with his head in his mom’s hand. Finally he signaled it was enough by swimming to the deck while Kay and I watched from the pool. She told him how wonderful the time had been. She thanked him for the intense, loving connection between them during his last float. She asked him, “Bo, would you like to thank Beth again?” He immediately came over, put his nose in my palms, and once again took time and intention to kiss each of them. Then, as was his custom after his swim, he turned to leave with his mom – never looking back.
As Bo left the pool room, I managed to choke out, “I love you, Bo.” I stared at my hands listening to the door click shut – knowing it was for the last time. He was lovingly helped to cross the Rainbow Bridge that afternoon.
I have looked at my hands so differently every day since Bo’s last two swims. The kisses on my face seemed like a loving good-bye. The careful treatment of my hands and arms seemed like so much more. He clarified for me the truth of tending with intention, knowing that each touch is with a purpose. I was taught this in WaterWork and Petmassage, but only now understood the depth of it – only now realized the intentionality flowed both ways. Bo’s message was both clear and evolving all at once. He told me how important the connection of my hands are when massaging, playing a game, or leading a fitness routine. The dogs know about my hands; they trust my hands; they share the energy of my hands. I know my hands have been blessed by Bo, thanked by Bo, and he has communicated his expectations.
I stare at my very ordinary looking hands. I respect and appreciate them for the first time in my life. I will communicate and accept communication through them joyfully. Thank you, Bo. I promise I will remember.
(Postscript: I have remembered,
Bo. A year later I have integrated what you taught me and practice in peace. I’m proud to tell you dogs and their humans have noticed and appreciated the growth. Oh, by the way, to date no other dog has matched your lap count.)
The Dog Dive is a holistic canine activity center. It features an indoor swimming pool, senior dog daycare, and space to rent for training or parties.
