This poem was my first poem. It is very sentimental and emotional to myself and daughter being it’s about Bob Quarles and his dog which was named Boo. Bob Quarles was my daughter’s husband and he committed suicide after a lengthy illness.
I was visiting my daughter, Dawn, in Pensacola Florida and staying with her. My daughter lived in this turn of the century house in the historical district. It was sort of a row house with antebellum ceilings and hard oak wood floors.
My daughter surrendered her bed being the model host and I retired to bed. I was awakened in the middle of the night by her dog, Boo, pacing around the house on the hardwood floors, his nails making a lot of noise. I knew it was the dog but I was intrigued by what he was about in his restlessness.
Boo was the family pet. He had been found abandoned and rescued by my daughter. He was of a questionable ancestry which we all made guesses as to. He was jet black and lovable and my grandson’s first dog.
My daughter’s husband, Bob, took him dove and duck hunting and he was the consummate squirrel chaser. My daughter’s husband became sick with a degenerate disease called “Still’s Disease” and after years of tests and medical procedures decided he didn’t want to live that way and took his own life by committing suicide. I can understand it but was troubled in that it causes so much heartache for those that survive him, namely my grandson and daughter not to mention his parents and family.
I created the poem out of an inspiration as to the thoughts of Boo, their dog. I was a grown man in their house and I think it stirred Boo’s recollection of his master. I believe Boo was restless because I was there and it's plausible that he remembered and became fretful that something wasn’t right and I wasn’t the man that was supposed to be there.
Boo is now also passed and was of an old age of 14. He was replaced by one of my dog’s litter, which are yellow labs. My grandson’s new dog is named Scout. Boo is buried in the back yard of a new home in Pace, Florida