Bowdu 寶肚, the Precious Tummy
a.k.a. Doobs
Jan 20, 2005 – August 17, 2020
The Original Bow of The House of Two Bows 雙寶之屋,
debuted on April 2, 2005
From bustling Taipei streets to our cozy Berkeley bungalow, through grad school and jobs and friendships and relationships, home with Bowdu was the most constant presence I’d known for the past 15 and a half years. He had been dealing with similar renal issues as Bowpi, but his mind was what failed him in the end. His canine cognitive dysfunction had been evident for a couple years already, though mostly abated with the pandemic and me being home all the time. But as soon as Bowpi was gone, he just lost it. It’s like I could feel his organs shutting down, particularly his precious heart-mind.
At the emergency vet where Bowpi was laid to rest, ambient thunderstorm sounds played in the room. On Bowdu’s last full day, we got a whole morning of real thunder, lightning, and summer rain — a rarity for Bay Area weather. It was a portentous beginning to our amazing last day together, spent alive in our senses and immersed in love. The heat and humidity had mostly subsided by the afternoon when we shifted out to the backyard. We cuddled in the shade, felt the cooling air, listened to birds and the neighborhood, watched the sky change colors as evening fog swirled in layers overhead. When the solar garden lights kicked on, we shared dinner outside — salt and pepper fish with lentil soup for me, the same fish minus pepper plus congee for him. We then camped down on a blanket until one a.m., when the party returned indoors for one last, failed attempt at sleeping calmly through the night.
He lived fiercely, yet passed so gently, yielding completely to the home euthanasia vet who came the next morning. Though I ached to keep him with me just a little longer, he told me clearly that he was ready to go.
Now, one grief-stricken week later, I am able to marvel at the timing, in retrospect. One day earlier, our backyard campout would have been chased indoors by inclement weather. Two days later, we’d be struggling to breathe through California wildfire smoke. I keep reflecting on the strange irony that this terrible pandemic gave both of my Bows pretty perfect deaths, after all. Because I didn’t have to miss Bowpi’s seizures and come home wondering what had happened, or worry about being somewhere else when she needed me, or wait in crowded offices while we were both in distress. And though lots of vets have contact-free policies now, the emergency vet was still able to let me go in to a very comfortable, private room and take all the time I needed with Bowpi. The home euthanasia vet let me stage Bowdu’s final moments in a peaceful, golden spot where the sun came shining down on his face, both of us facing westward with my masked face buried in his neckfur, spooning him in his final moments. The vet stayed outdoors, I remained inside, Bowdu laid on a dog bed at the threshold of the back door until his breath just faded into vapor…
It is not the worst injustice to have a beloved pet pass while everyone is under lockdown. It is still extremely painful to lose both Bows within a single month. In a year full of unwelcome changes, I can only hope these two will hurt the most.
Until we find each other again…
Chris Noble said:
I’m so sad to hear that you have now lost Bowdu too. And so close to losing Bowpi. It’s hard to lose them at all and yet somehow easier when they aren’t completely there any longer. When the world terrifies them and they are always restless with little sleep I think we put off the inevitable for ourselves, not them. I know at least that I did. I’m glad both passings had some good moments to them that can help ease the pain of grief just a bit. Mine had a double rainbow to look back on. I guess our main comfort is that they are finally at peace. But only time will dull the pain our hearts feel from their no longer being with us each day. I’m glad you have your blog to look back on your life with them. It’s easy to forget moments and you have permanent reminders of them. I hope the days get easier for you. And yet, I know it takes a long time for any healing. I’m wishing you the best as your work through this. – Chris
M.C. said:
❤ ❤
NY Earthling said:
MC, I don’t know what to say. Both of them, so close together, even if it was the right time for them to leave, must be so hard for you. I’m so sorry.
M.C. said:
Thanks for following us over all these years. ❤
Leslie said:
I somehow missed this post notification when it came and only found it today as I was cleaning out my mailbox. I had to stop reading to cry for a bit. My own old lady Shiba is 12 and slowing down, hearing and seeing less well, and I know we’ve had more time together than we have time left. I grieve a little in advance every day, but I hope when the time comes we’ll have the peace and grace you and Bowdu shared. I wish you’d had longer together, but thank you for sharing the time you did have. I wish you serenity in hard times and memories that never fade.
Lisa (Sinjin and Sienna’s mom) said:
Sorry to find out about the two Bows. I have lost touched reading your blog for a few years. I was watching Sinjin struggling to climb up our bed and thought about Bowdu for some reason. Weird. Thus, visiting your site. 2020 suck big time. Two years late but I grieve for you and a heartfelt condolences. Thank you.
M.C. said:
I remember you and Sinjin and Sienna! Thank you for stopping by and allowing me to revisit memories of our pups in their youth. Hoping for comfort and ease for Sinjin’s old joints, sending lots of warmth to your home. ❤
Ulatking said:
Following the Bows had been part of my teenage memories in blogging. It had been years we last followed the Bows, coming back after sorting out post pandemic life to see parting of them both, hurts.
Farewell precious tummy. Till the family reunited again at the end of the rainbow bridge.
M.C. said:
❤ ❤ Thanks for visiting, and coming on this journey with us.