Bobby's Tale - Love

I call him Bobby,  Baba, Boy, or Boy Boy, or, on a day when I feel particularly funny, Mr. Bobinsky!  Soon after I adopted him I found out that he was a mischievous sweetheart.  Sometimes I stayed in one room of the house, looking at him through the door in another room, he would stare at me straight for a long time. At first I couldn't figure out why he was doing that, then when I moved a bit and was able to see his tail, I realize that he was wagging his tail really hard the entire time to show me that he was happy. That was him, always happy and sweet, all the time. After that I realized that whenever Bobby saw me, even just a little head perking out, he was always wagging his tail.  It brightened my heart like nothing else.

Every few weeks or so I gave him a bath, I could never forget how he looked so small and bony with such sad and large eyes after being soaked with water. He felt afraid and special at the same time, it was the only time I would completely pay attention to him without the little white dog bothering him. After the torturous shower was over, I dried him with a large towel, rubbed his belly and used a blow dryer and comb to dry his hair, and he liked it! Those moments when I took care of him, I really grew to like him too.

Periodically in my life, I would have frightening nightmares. It started when I first left home to live in a boarding music school in Beijing at 15 years old. Away from family all year round except summer and winter vacation, I lost sleep night after night, and had bad dreams when I did finally sleep. The problem stayed with me for years after. I'd dream about blood, dying, and woke up soaking in sweat. One such night I dreamed of being stuck inside a castle like slaughter house. It was dimly lit by candles, I looked down, the stone floor was covered with blood, and when I looked up, human body parts hang off the high ceiling. Frightened, I ran out to the door, within blink of an eye, I was back in there again. I woke up, sat up in the dark alone. Bobby had snuggled up to Kelly in a dog bed in another room. The door was open, I whispered his name, and a second later I heard a small rumbling and he showed up.  It sent a comfort that no words could describe. That night I let Bobby sleep on the bed next to me, it took away my fear, and from then on, my bad dreams disappeared.

When I moved to my new house, I let my mom took care of both Kelly and Bobby while I got the house ready and furnished. Since my husband was never used to living with any pets, I decided to take one dog in at a time. One day I went to take Kelly to the new house with me. I grabbed her leash, her bed, toys and some food. Bobby seemed to realize that I wasn't going to take him with me. Usually, when this kind of injustice occurred, he would cry on top of his lungs, but that day he was silent, he didn't make a sound at all when we went out the door. I drove away feeling quite uneasy. According to my mom, that day Bobby fell to the floor, he didn't move or bark all night, he didn't bark when other dogs walked passed her house, or ate anything when she tried to give him food. Maybe he thought Kelly was being taken away forever because her bed was taken too, maybe he thought he was abandoned. I went back to get him a few days later, and decided that I was never going to do anything to break his heart again. 

We had so much fun together at the new house. We threw parties and Bobby was always the center of attention because everyone loved him. My husband and I took them hiking, to the dog park, walked long walks, played fetch, cooked salmon and cheese dinners, they slept on real children's bed with mattress, duvet, pillows and ate lots of treats. Two days before he died, I grabbed my purse and took him and Kelly for a long walk, we went around the neighborhood and through a park until we reached a shopping plaza. I bought coffee and sat with them there for a little bit. That day Bobby jumped on short brick walls and bathed in the sun. He loved being outside and he loved to play, and this happiness spilled all over me. I thought to myself, how could life be any better?

He followed me everywhere at home, that include me taking a trip at night to the laundry room, or putting together furniture in my blue room, or sitting with me on the sofa while fell asleep from reading. If I had closed a door on him and opened it a moment later, he would be right there tilting his head, wagging his tail waiting for me. Since he was gone, home have not been the same, and I have not been the same. I often wondered if I could believe in the afterlife. If when I opened the door to heaven, will I see him waiting for me right by the door, tilting his little head and wagging his happy tail?