Ol' Boot
Bootie was a Chow-shepherd mix who was Tim's buddy for 10 years. This is a eulogy he wrote after he died in August 2001. He was 13 years old.
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I almost didn't get the chance to adopt Bootie.
My first dog from the Pinellas County Humane Society in Florida was Sam, a golden retriever. I adopted him the week before Thanksgiving. Like all retrievers, he had lots of energy.
On his first night at his new home, he broke two jalousie window panes trying to make a break for it. On his second day, he tore through the screen door to chase a squirrel. On his fourth day, he knocked the Thanksgiving ham off the kitchen counter and ate most of it. On his sixth day, he knocked over the Christmas tree. So on the seventh day, Sam went back to the Humane Society, and I bawled all the way home.
Then around February, my roommate and I tried again, this time at the County Dog Pound. He was obsessed with getting a dog that could protect us, and talked me into getting a white German shepherd. We had to wait a day for him to be neutered before we could bring him home. And that was enough time for me to have second thoughts and decide I didn't want a dog that I would be afraid of. So I called the Pound and told them that my landlord said I couldn't have a big dog.
We waited a few more months, and in May we tried the Humane Society again. As I walked up and down the rows of cages, I wanted to take each and every one of them home. Then I stopped in front of one cage, and standing at the gate was a brown and black fur ball with perky ears, shining eyes and a big smile, and I fell in love right there.
It was a 3-year-old Chow-shepherd mix named Bootie. The index card on his cage door said he was there because he didn't get along with children. The volunteers told me that Bootie had been there for 29 days. They could only keep animals for 30 days. So how could I not take him home with me?
As they say, the third time's a charm. Bootie was as good-natured as a dog could be. He was gentle, but he liked to play rough. We would wrestle on the floor and he would nip at my hands, and sometimes he got me good.
He loved to swim, and one special memory is a dark, stormy day when we had the beach in St. Pete all to ourselves. We ran and splashed, rolled around and got dirty and had a great time.
When I bought a house with a pool, Bootie loved to swim back and forth in it. His hair would float out all around him, and his nose would juuust stick out of the water.
And speaking of that new house, it was a moving experience for Bootie. Five minutes after being in the new house for the very first time, he took a dump in the dining room.
Paws & Whiskers
Watch a movie dedicated to Cooper, Bootie and our friends' friends who are gone.
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Bootie was my shadow. He always followed me from room to room, even if I was just getting up for a minute. If I was moving back and forth from room to room, he stand in the middle and wait for me to decide where I was going to settle.
He hated slick floors - and of course our house is all hardwood floors. The rugs in the living room, doorway, hallway and dining room were islands of safety for ol' Boot. As he got older, and his legs didn't have the strength they used to, he would sometimes slip and fall like Bambi on ice. Sometimes he could pick himself up and sometimes he needed help. But despite the slickeriness, sounds from the kitchen never failed to make him brave the dangers, and you would hear his toenails go click-clack-click-clack - and sometime thump! - as he made his way to see if he was missing out on any treats.
He slept on the floor by my side of the bed, unless Gage's side was cooler. It was our nightly ritual, waiting to hear Bootie huff and puff his way up the stairs, pause at the top to catch his breath, then lie down with a plop beside me. I still listen for him, and I still swing my legs out over him when I get up in the middle of the night. I know he's still there.
Bootie naturally loved a good nap. He was a sound sleeper. And he must have had wonderful dreams. He yipped in his sleep and his legs would twitch like he was running as fast as he could. Sometime his toenails would click on the wall next to the bed and wake me up. It always made me sit up and watch him go.
In New York, Bootie and Cooper were the Toast of the Town. Every time we went on a walk - literally. every. time. - people would stop and say "Oh, he looks like a lion," and as for Cooper, "He has a heart of gold." Cooper often got the most attention, but he was usually aloof. Bootie, on the other hand, would step right up, sniff and lick the extended hand and say,"Pet me! Pet me!"
The Chinese laundry lady down the street got mad if we didn't stop by on our walks so she could toss milk bones to them. The boys gained quite the reputation with her, the groomers and the vet as "Cookie Monsters."
Bootie always took his time with his snacks. Gage always said he was just a slow eater. But I like to think he savored his treat, enjoying every bite rather than gulping it down without tasting it.
Bootie always walked with his nose to the ground - his way of making scents of the world. In New York, the sidewalk rubbed away the hair on his moustache, leaving just the pink skin underneath.
Except for that, keeping his head down wasn't much of a problem for him when he was on a leash. But when he was on his own, in the back yard of our house in rural Dallas County, for example, he wouldn't realize how far he had sniffed and would look up and be lost for a minute.
We lived in a neighborhood of one-acre lots with no fences and sometimes he was clear on the other side of the neighbor's yard.
Bootie and I got into a routine. He normally circled the house, and I would watch for him to pass by the breakfast nook window. If I didn't see him by the time I got to the Sports section, I would go look for him. Sometimes he would look up from where he had gotten to, give me an over-the-shoulder look, see if I was calling him back, and if not, he'd continue on his way.
In my dreams, I see Bootie going on one of his strolls. He gets pretty far away and looks over his shoulder at me. This time, though, he tells me that he has to keep going to see what wonderful smells are over the next hill. And off he goes, as fast as his feet will carry him.
Through our years together, Bootie taught me this:
- Sniff out adventure wherever you go
- To get to life's treats, you have to take risks (like slickery floors)
- Savor the treats and make them last
- Always be eager to make new friends
- Love unconditionally
- Stick close to the ones you love.
