Bailey Ray
My wife wrote a great post about our dog. The best dog ever. He will be missed. Here's my take.
You might not care, but I do, so I'm writing about our missing family member. He came to us just under a year old, a neglected Christmas puppy a family bought for their children that wanted puppies, but didn't want to care for them. Bailey, then known as "Romeo" -- horrible! -- had a sibling. We visited one day and the next day, when we decided to buy him, the sibling was gone and Bailey was ours.
My wife thought "Bailey" would be a good name because it went well with "Beagle" -- "Beagle Bailey" and also because you could add "Bob" or "Ray" at the end and make it sound like someone with a twang -- "Bailey Ray" == "Billy Ray". Get it? Bailey had a lot of names. He was Bailey BRM (Belly Rubbing Maniac), Bailey Box of Rocks (as in, he was as dumb as). I used to sing "Bailey Ray was a preacher's son, when his Daddy would visit, he'd come along..." I love that floppy-eared doofus.
He was a birthday gift to my wife but right away, he was mine. Bailey and I spent every day together, all day. I worked from home and he parked himself in my office, at my feet or in front of the door so he knew when I left. We lived in Montana, where even in summer you can take your pet with you, if you leave the window half-way down. We did everything together -- groceries, post office, picking up kids at school. I'd leave the windows down and go in to the store, and he'd climb into the driver's seat and wait, alert for my return. He was SO regal. He sat ramrod straight, like a Buckingham Palace guard, alert. You could see only his head, like an old lady driving a car. When I approached the car, he would finally notice -- his eyesight was never very acute -- and when he saw me, he'd almost leap with excitement and hop into another seat so I could get in the car.
What a dog! Most Beagles would leave a leash, put the nose down and never be seen again, but early on we knew he'd stay with me on walks or around the yard. These were early signs of the agonizing anxiety he would feel if I was gone. My wife wrote well about that.
I have so many memories of the doofus, the time hiking to a falls near Seeley Lake when he was gone for more than an hour. My poor hearing couldn't find him but my Dad, who was with us, could hear him baying at something he'd treed. My dad thought maybe it was a black bear, even, based on some evidence we'd had.
Bailey got the shaft of a burgeoning family. The oldest kids came back from summer with Granny & Papa soon after we got him and he had to share me with them. Then came our next son, and while Bailey did great with an infant, then toddler (our son ate the dog food out of the bowl so often, we had to stop leaving it out), then pre-schooler then ... well, Bailey never got all the attention he deserved from me, especially after we moved to Texas. I tried to take him with me places, but he wouldn't stand being left on the beach while I windsurfed. More than once -- a lot more than once -- I'd come to shore to find he'd gotten free and came swimming out to me. Several windsurfers on the beach saved his life a few times, once just as he was going down. And with the exceptionally hot weather here, I couldn't take him anywhere and leave him, windows down or not. This sucked much for my poor dog.
My biggest regret isn't that Bailey is dead now. He lived a long life, and peaceful, and since I worked from home most of his life, he was around me constantly. My biggest regret is that after he hit about 10 years old, I couldn't take him anywhere, and I had gotten so busy that I rarely even took him for a walk. It breaks my heart now to think about it, how much better I could have been. How good he was. I promise though, to love like Bailey loved, and to do as much as I can with those who remain heartbroken, left behind in your angelic wake. Love you, doofus.
I will scatter Bailey's ashes at Kelly Island, back in Montana, the next time I'm there. He loved the romps we took at Kelly as much as I did, and it will be where he deserves to live always. I can't write about Kelly Island properly. It was just too good, Bailey and me out there in the winter, all by ourselves. I'm looking forward to it, but I know I'm going to be breaking all over again.
I don't know if I'll ever get another dog. When you've had the best, what do you do next? I also feel a little bit like my family didn't care enough about Bailey. Especially in the last couple of years, he was just the deaf & blind dog who would always sleep right in the highest-traffic area, who bit and snapped, who peed almost daily somewhere in the house. Once -- this was probably 5 or 6 years ago when Bailey was still young enough to jump on the bed, I settled in to sleep one night and found a turd on my pillow! How is that for a message!?! "Didn't walk me today, here's what I think about that." I wish I were joking. I felt like that movie producer in "The Godfather". But I never stopped loving him.
The turning point came over the last few months. Nearly blind and nearly deaf, always laying in the way (on purpose, so he wouldn't miss anything), someone would brush against him and he'd snap. He'd pull everything off the dinner table. He'd pee, poop, bark and bay if he were separated from the action (we tried to keep him away, but he wouldn't have it). Over the last year, we'd all got the brunt of it. On Jan 5th I ordered a basket-muzzle off Amazon -- I still haven't gotten it -- but afterwards, I realized that the remainder of Bailey's regal life could not be spent jailed behind a muzzle he'd probably bite me if I tried to attach. The muzzle is designed to let them drink, pant, etc, but it's not for a beloved family member.
It was then I realized I was keeping him for me. I couldn't bear to make that decision. It was a matter of time before he really hurt someone -- he'd bitten one of our children, then 2, in the face a few years ago. If he did that again, he would have to spend two weeks in the kennel, then be put down. I couldn't let any of that happen - an injury to my family, a dog's last two weeks like that.
January 6th, 2010 was a sad day, and I'm sure I'll have many sad moments to follow. I still look & listen for him rattling around the house, and when I lay on the floor to stretch out my back, I still can smell his perfect dog smell. I tear up, not as much as when we had to put him down, I bawled for 30 minutes then, but I tear up. It was a difficult choice, but it what was best for Bailey. If it was about what was best for me, then Bailey would have hobbled on for another 10 years. He will live on the way he went out, Regal. Best. Dog. Ever.
