Goodbye, Dear Bailey

 

Have you ever had a pet that when it passed away, left you crouched on a closet floor, crying and yelling out in pain and loss?  

Have you ever made the decision to end a dog or cat's life, sure you are doing what is best for the animal but still agonizing over the decision, wondering if you could have done more?

When we bring a pet into our lives, we accept the reality that one day it will leave us, that its all too brief life will mark us for the rest of our days, with great joy and almost unbearable grief.

And, we willingly do it again and again. In our case, Bailey was our fifth dog in the 44 years of our marriage. Each time we said goodbye, our insides broke, and our home was instantly quiet, still, and empty.

Human beings have a bond with a pet that really defies reason. We know it will break our hearts, but we keep putting ourselves back on the path of certain loss. I have never had a cat, but I assume that the relationship is just as strong. 

What does a dog in your life do? It teaches responsibility, it alters your life, it makes you think of another living creature that is totally dependent on you for its survival and comfort. It demands little, just the chance to share its heart with you.

Bailey was near death in early July. She had begun bleeding internally. After thousands of dollars and what seemed like oceans of tears, we brought her home to die with family. A tumor on her liver was large and inoperable because of her spontaneous bleeding problems. While steroids and other meds kept her comfortable, she was obviously struggling.

Literally, one hour before we were to take her to the vet to be put to sleep, she suddenly started to perk up. She got up, wanted to play, and started acting like a puppy...a healthy puppy. She ran around the house, wanting to tug on her favorite toys. She begged to go outside to explore. We knew in our hearts her time was limited, but we saw it as a blessing that she could be part of the family for a while longer.

In mid-October, things started deteriorating again. She couldn't catch her breath, stopped wanting to leave the house for walks, lost most of her appetite, and was showing us it was time for us to let her go.

October 26th, we said goodbye to our darling dog. While surrounded by family, crouched on the floor of a room at the pet hospital, she slipped into a deep sleep, and within a few seconds, her chest stopped moving. The vet nodded to confirm what was obvious. 

The next day, I was a basket case, tearing up, crying, and despondent. At the exact time she had died 24 hours earlier, I lost it, worse than I remember for any of our other pets. She was Daddy's girl and never left my side. Now, that space was a painful hole.

A few days later, I had regained control of my emotions. I was able to look at pictures of her and smile. I could laugh and relive memories of the great times we had together. I still have moments when I look for her or say her name, but they are less frequent.

At some point, it is likely Betty and I will decide to ask another dog to share some of our life. We will find a rescue dog that needs a home, love, attention, and everything we can do to make its time with us special.

Why this post, now? After a political and election season that refuses to end, I wanted to focus on something that involved pure love and sharing. I needed to remember something so good and positive in my life, untouched by discord. For over eight years, something that was a daily reminder that loving and being loved is powerful and affirming.

Goodbye, Dear Bailey. Thank you for the gift of your personality, your love, and for sharing your life with us. You will never be forgotten.