My Beautiful Bowie - December 2007 - August 24, 2012

I was lucky that the best dog to ever paw the planet belonged to me. I received my beautiful, beloved Golden Retriever in 2007 as a gift to give me love and joy when I was struggling to pull my head above grief after losing several loved ones in the course of a few months. I was a happy high schooler then known for my exuberance, and had lost some of my light for a while. He reignited my joy. In my family it's always been a tradition to name our dogs after musicians we love and our cats after people we admire (we've had Bono, Cash, Madge - Madonna, Stevie, Walter Cronkitty, and Marty Luther). My dad loved Bowie in his youth, and after seeing Bowie and Arcade Fire perform together, my love for him began to build. We decided we needed our own Bowie. 

Bowie continued to be a daily gift to me for the rest of his life. He slept in his own bed downstairs, but would come into my room every morning and nestle on my rug quietly, politely wait for me to wake up so he could be the first one to welcome me to the day. He went running with me every morning, and challenged me to be faster. I credit him for becoming so great at cross country, haha. Coming home every day was a celebration because he would get excited and act like he hadn't seen me in years when it had only been a few hours. He was in many ways like my canine personality doppelganger - spirited, fun-loving, larkish, mischievous, inquisitive, and naturally happy, but also sensitive and thoughtful. Bowie an astonishing aptitude for reading my emotions and understanding my needs, and would contour his energy and affections accordingly. When I was lively, he was hyper and ready to play. When I was sad, he would come and rest his head on my leg and just be there, like a sentry. During my active treatment for Hodgkin's Lymphoma when I really didn't want platitudes or pity, but just steadfast love and companionable silence, Bowie gave me exactly that. He comforted me, calmed me, loved me. He was my sunshine when my clouds were gray. 

Bowie keeping vigil. 

While I was finishing finals for the spring quarter, my dad noticed that Bowie wasn't acting like himself and brought him to the vet. He was diagnosed with Canine Lymphosarcoma. I was already set to go directly from college to Italy for a special study abroad, and my parents chose not to inform me of Bowie's illness because they knew I wouldn't go, and that it was an opportunity that couldn't be replicated. I found out about his sickness when an aunt inadvertently slipped it out during a call home. I felt like I'd been punched in the heart. My first instinct was to want to book the first flight home, but my parents and professors finally talked me out of it. That Bowie would have lymphoma and I couldn't be there to provide for him all that he gave to me when I had cancer, was devastating. He held on until I came home from Europe, so I got to spend a week up at our lake house, just me, my grandpa and my Bow. We then brought him home and said our goodbyes. Our vet came to our home so he could be euthanized in a place filled with deep adoration for him.