Hello Friends. Our question for this week is a bit furrier than usual. It's about pets we may have had in the past, or those that may be in our lives now. In addition to being good company, can pets actually inspire us? Thank you for letting me share this story. I look forward to hearing yours. Even if you’re not a pet person, as always, we welcome you to visit and comment on our Wednesday Check in!
He wasn’t my dog. He was just staying at our house temporarily. You know, we were just making sure he was fed and had a place to go outside and do doggie things. But he became my dog.
He was a little ten-pound terrier mix from a shelter just outside Fort Hood in Killeen, Texas. He was brought to a local big box pet store as part of a pet adoption promotion which would hopefully result in several dog and cat adoptions, including his own. In short, he had overstayed his allotted time at the shelter and his appearance at the pet store that day was his last chance. Our daughter went to the store for cat food and left with the little dog, an older pup as near as they could tell, around five years old. She named him Bailey.
When our son-in-law was deployed to Afghanistan for the second time, our daughter and her four-pet menagerie came to stay with us in Michigan. It had been a while since we’d had a dog – Rachel, another older shelter dog – had passed away years before. By the time we met Bailey he had lost many teeth, and his tongue no longer stayed tucked in his mouth but hung out and off to the side.
Months later when it was time for our daughter to go back to Texas, it was decided by all of us that Bailey would stay in our home with us in Michigan. Since becoming empty nesters my husband liked to keep things simple: no pet hair, no barking, no mess, no having to go out for walks, and more freedom to come and go as we pleased. But after seeing how Bailey and I had bonded, he knew better than to even question it.
Bailey was good company. I’d take him for rides in the car, out for ice cream, and for walks in the park by the lake. He was always – always – a happy little pup. It was impossible to look at him and not smile. We didn’t have a fenced-in yard, so we hooked his collar up to a line on the clothesline. Sometimes in the winter he was up to his shoulders in snow but, without hesitation plodded on to the middle of the yard. When it was an especially cold day, I’d set him outside the door and say, “Go on. You can do it, and I’ll wait for you right here.” He’d do his business then bound back to me, covered with snow, tongue out, ears flapping in the breeze, and tail wagging like mad.
One summer night I put him outside after dinner. I came in the house and got busy with other things and around 10 o’clock that evening, as I always do, I went around the house to make sure all the lights were off, and all the doors were locked. I went to the back door, and there sat Bailey, waiting. He was happy to see me, as if he’d been outside, alone, for just a few minutes.
Even on his last day here on earth, although he had been ravaged by an aggressive cancer and was very weak, Bailey wagged his tail and passed away looking up at me. He was more than a dog. He was my friend. And he inspired me with his patience, his willingness to forgive, his boundless capacity for joy, and his courage. Did you ever have a pet that inspired you?