“What Do I Do Now?”  

By Rhonda Hunsucker



In Loving Memory of Celestial Mardi Gras Celebration – also known as “Bo” (or Bo-Bo, Love Bug, Sweet Boy, or Bolicious).



Wednesday, July 25, 2012, 2 p.m.  I sit on my bed with my beloved Pug “Bo” lying next to me.  Yesterday I received devastating news about Bo, and now I find myself wondering, “What do I do now?”  How do I come to terms with what is about to happen and how long do I have to wait before he is no longer suffering?



Celestial Mardi Gras Celebration, AKA “Bo,” was born on February 9, 2005, in Hayward, California, to Tiki and Scarlett, and came into my life in November 2005.  A 50th birthday present to myself I tell everyone.



Bo has been a constant joy, a true “Pug” in every sense of the word.  Anyone who has ever been owned by a Pug knows what being a true Pug means.  Those who have never experienced this joy are truly missing out on one of life’s greatest pleasures.



Life has been moving along, things at work are going the best they have been in a long while.  Bo and I have settled into a new home and are enjoying life.  Then Bo suddenly became sick on July 15, 2012.  When he refused to eat, I knew something was seriously wrong as a Pug that refuses to eat is indeed a very sick Pug.  



Off to the vet and Bo is hospitalized.  A myriad of x-rays, ultrasounds, and blood tests are done to determine why he is so sick.  Looks like a foreign body the surgeon, vet, and ultrasound tech all agree.  Bo underwent emergency open exploratory surgery.  No foreign body the surgeon says, “But his small intestine is all messed up; I’ve never seen anything like it.”  The surgeon tells me that he took multiple biopsies of Bo’s small intestine and stomach; I am later told that he also took a biopsy of Bo’s liver and some lymph nodes because “something didn’t look just right.”  



It was a grueling several days as I held my breath waiting for those biopsy results to come back, never in a million years expecting that I would hear the words, “Bo has lymphoma.  It’s in his stomach, small intestine, and liver, and it’s very serious.”  The pathologist labeled this cancer as a “high-grade malignancy with infiltration into the muscle wall of the stomach and diffuse infiltration throughout the small intestine and liver.”



What?????  How does a Pug go from being his normal goofy, healthy Pug-self, playing with his squeaky toys, enjoying stroller rides with me through our new neighborhood, and eating like a Pug one day to being seriously ill with gastrointestinal lymphoma within a matter of days?  I must be dreaming.  Someone please wake me up from this dreadful nightmare!  I can’t be losing my baby boy.



How ironic can it be that only several months after this wonderful creature came into my life, I was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s lymphoma!  I had also just lost my “Precious.”  I never thought I could stand to have another dog in my life as no other could replace Precious.  I soon found out how wrong I was!!  I hated going home to an empty house and no wagging tail to greet me.  It was then that I found Bo, and he filled such a huge void in my life -  something I didn’t think would ever be possible!



This amazing creature helped me through two of the darkest times in my life.  I don’t know what I would have done without him.  He stuck to me like glue throughout my illness, and now I will have to say goodbye to my Love Bug.  The fact that I can’t give back to him what he has given to me is truly breaking my heart.  Does he understand how hard I have tried to save him?  Does he know how lost I am going to be without him?  Does he know how much I love him?  I pray that he does, because I want him to leave this world knowing how deeply he is loved and what having him in my life has meant to me.  Bo’s vet has repeatedly told me how lucky he is to have me, but the truth is, I am the lucky one to have him.  



And now my heart is breaking into a million pieces because I am going to lose my Bolicious.  The wonderful vets who have been caring for Bo told me that there is nothing more they can do for him.  He is not responding to treatment.  His little body is wasting away in front of my eyes.  He is too weak to fight this horrible disease or to withstand the drugs to fight it.  They tell me they don’t expect him to make it through this coming weekend.  I’m wracked with guilt, “I wish we knew he was so sick sooner; we could have saved him.”  The vet assures me that there was nothing we could have done.  “This cancer was too aggressive,” she says; “The outcome wouldn’t have been any different.”  What do I do now?



I called my daughter Courtney and gave her the bad news.  We decided to bring Bo home last night so he can spend whatever time he has left with us, not in a hospital.  I want him to have at least one more night to sleep in his favorite place, in bed with me; to be surrounded by all of his favorite stuffed animals, and to be with the two people in this world who love him so much.  We take care of him, constantly cleaning him because he has no control over his body; trying to coax him to take one more bite of his favorite food, or one more sip of water – all to no avail.  And I wonder, how much longer will he be able to hold on?  

Wednesday, July 25, 2012, 10:22 p.m. 



At approximately 5:18 p.m., I had the answer to my question.  Bo passed away while Courtney and I held him in our arms and cried like babies.  He looked at us with so much love in his little eyes as he took his last breath; such peace on his sweet little face at last, something that had not been present for the past 11 days.  



What do I do now?  I walk through the house picking up the stuffed animals and chew toy that held the treats he loved so much….. I look at his food and water bowls, the tears start again.  I walk to my bedroom and look at the bed and think how strange it will be to not have his little nose in my ear in the middle of the night letting me know that he wants to get under the covers….



What do I do now?  I climb into bed holding onto the little stuffed bunny rabbit that he loved; one of the last toys I bought him.  The tears fall uncontrollably and I whisper, “Rest in Peace Sweet Boy.  Your time on earth, and in our lives, was too short, but we were truly blessed to have you for the time you were here.  You will forever be in our hearts.”