Boskolives = Bosko + Lives > Truth

March 1, 2007 at 2:20 am 1 comment

Bosko was a bit over 130 pounds of love disguised as a Husky / Malmute mix, otherwise known as my last dog. He lived to be about 13 people years of age, outliving his Vetrinarian who, when Bosko was a pup had said because of his size would only make it to 7 years, perhaps 8 or 9 at the best. The non-Armenian Veterinarian (one might assume otherwise with, you know, that ….ian ending) lived to be about 8 in dog years, Bosko took no joy in this. In the formulaic title of this short post, Bosko lives on in my memories, greater than the truth year by year. I chose to not use the underscore to separate the words in the name of this blog_like_this, this always looks goofy to me when people do it, so I ran them together.


Oh Jeannie, queen of oral, this is so you!

When I married the evil one in Indiana (who will not be named here because, well, she’s evil and has a lawyer) her daughter was 4 years old, and when said daughter walked Bosko people that were approaching on the sidewalk would often cross to the other side of the street to avoid the chance that Bosko might be overly protective of her, but the real truth is that there was never a more gentle big dog on the planet. Well, maybe other than “Puppy”, the Belgian sheppard that due being around during my Stoned Hippy days never got a real name. Towards the end of his life after I moved to Indiana, Bosko saw his first snow and went nuts, prancing around like a drunken rabbit. I guess he always sensed that something was missing from what his genetic set up was made for, and this was it. Maybe he was finally aware of why he had dug those deep pits in my yard in Sun Valley, California, where the temperature seldom dropped under 80 and the chance of snow drifts was really, really remote. Miss you man, maybe not your farts, but definitely that drooling smile of yours!

N.B., The ownership of any and all photos, opinions, and/ or quotes above (including those of mine) belong to the material’s creator(s). Credit is given when it’s known, but because success usually has a million parents and failure is an orphan, blame will not be so attributed. 

Feel free to ignore any ads that are shown below, I don’t choose them and (sadly) I don’t make a penny off any of them.

P.S., check back for occasional updates and rewrites….

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You’ll See It When You Believe It Direct from Dilbert’s Blog

1 Comment Add your own

  • 1. Nik  |  April 11, 2007 at 8:09 pm

    Hey there!

    This is gonna sound nuts, considering what the tag turned out to be…..but when I followed your comments on the Dilbert blog, I always read it as “basque olives” (although I know it was not spelled that way) and imagined you in Spain!

    Ah, well. I know this feeling of yours well. My heart was held by a beagle named Lola until I lost her three years ago. Now it’s Psycho the mutt. Not called such because she’s mean, but because, as the vet pointed out, “She’s got a screw loose.” (And then he charged me $84.)

    Take care, man. Nice to find your blog.



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