My Bogie Boy

When Angel died in March, I thought I would have a couple years of solo time with Bogie since he was  only 9. He didn't need a lot of attention, which was good because Angel demanded attention. I wanted to make it up to him. 

 But it wasn't to be. What had been noticed a couple years ago as a dragging of his back feet, became more serious. Degenerative myelopathy. He began to not only drag his feet, but have trouble getting up. And standing up. 

 We tried swim therapy. And he seemed to like it.

But getting into and out of the car did more damage than the therapy helped.  

So we muddled on the best that we could.  The final straw was when he couldn't get up.  And I couldn't help him up.  The panic on his face crushed me.  He eventually did get up, but that was a portent of the end. 

On October 17, I took him in to the vet, held him close, and let him go.  

Sweet, smart, stubborn, and stoic, he is sorely missed.