Loved Real Good

That's what Bailey would have said about his time with us. The big guy passed away on Thursday after a brief illness. He had a long series of troubles with his health over the years, so I think that he did pretty well for a big dog. He lived to be about 8 1/2 years old, and he lived in grand style for a guy who was adopted out twice from the shelter - and then brought back both times. His time before that could not have been great, either, or he would not have landed in the shelter in the first place.

Bailey was a handful, as anyone who knows me and has heard me speak of him can attest. Of course, when he met new people he came across as the perfect gentleman:

Note: I had to mask the identity of the person in this photo as she is massively paranoid about her picture getting splashed all over the Web. It makes me laugh that I actually did this for her, because, honestly, how many people are really reading my blog? Snort.

Seriously, he really was the greatest dog with visitors and on outings (except in the car - ugh). Calm, great on a leash when we would hit the farmers markets or take a walk on a trail. He was amazingly better behaved out and about or with guests.

Huh...

Bailey was a lucky boy. He got to go on vacation...this is the Big B lazing on Deb and Darryl's bed at the house we rented in the Shenandoah Valley (we had 6 dogs in that house and left it spotless...with no damage, Miller! - but that's a story for another time):

He also vacationed in North Carolina, Pennsylvania, Maryland, Maine, the Catskills, and finally lived the vacation life in the Adirondacks in upstate New York. He also went on lots of local excursions, like this trip to Cape May, New Jersey, and a ride on the ferry:



Everyone who knows me recognizes the little guy sitting there next to Bailey. That's Fred, or as Bailey used to call him, "My Thanksgiving Present." I adopted Fred because my sister and I were looking for a dog to befriend Bailey - and to keep Bailey out of Boo's sights. Bailey wasn't Boo's favorite brother - Boo never forgot about all those times that Bailey stepped on him when he first came to live with us. But getting Fred was just the ticket: Bailey and Fred were best buds from the get-go. They played great together, despite Bailey's substantial size advantage:


And he was know as "My Thanksgiving Present" because we brought him home on November 22nd, four years ago, and the day before Thanksgiving. Bailey was never happier, I don't think, than he was those first few months with his new pal.

My 16 1/2 year old Lab/Golden mix Miller is the most patient of fellows. He was always so great with Bailey, despite the fact that Bailey really could be such a nudge. This is Miller and Bailey, hangin' in the backyard in Glassboro:

I am pretty sure that not a day went by in the nearly 6 1/2 years that I called Bailey mine that I didn't yell at him. He wasn't the smartest dog in the world. My vet back in New Jersey, who was when I lived down there and remains to this day one of the great veterinarians that I have had the pleasure to take my dogs to, used to say that Bailey was a lot like a GQ model: "Beautiful on the outside," he said, and then with just the most perfect hesitation he added, pointing up to his own head, "but not a whole lot up here."


He was such a pretty guy, everybody said so. The disease that he suffered from, it was known as masticatory myositis, or basically a deterioration of the muscles, manifested itself almost exclusively in the loss of muscle around his skull. This is why the bump on the top of his head was more and more noticable. We're pretty sure that muscles elsewhere had started to be affected. And there were other things that were going to be trouble for him. I am not a religious person and do not believe in prayer or "blessings", but I do think that it was fortuitous, maybe, that he had such a short illness because he was going to have a hard time of it with the other difficulties we found from testing.

I had adopted a new dog not all that long ago, Homer, another Beagle mix. It might have been a sign that Bailey wasn't himself when he didn't greet Homer with open paws. He seemed a little peeved sometimes with the new kid on the block, when he wasn't being his usual sweet self, like this:


So, as with all of the dogs that I have loved and lost, I will get over this. I will cry suddenly at the least mention of Bailey's name, as I am right now as I type this. But I have three wonderful dogs that make me laugh and feel so good and return all of the love that I give them, and more. There will be other dogs in my life, eventually. Bailey was special, and he required a special family to be with. I feel lucky to have been able to give him a good life. I wish I could do it for more dogs.

As I mentioned, I am not religious, but I do believe that if there is a heaven then these two boys, Bailey and Boo, are up there playing - together for a change - with all of their other dog buddies and cousins that have left us. I'm sure there is a great party going on up there, with Bailey barking long and loud, which he was wont to do for no good reason at all.

Rest in peace, my sweet boy.

Homerville

Life is good in Homerville.


Homer was known as Gomer at the shelter. Changing his name was the right thing to do; everybody loves the name and it absolutely suits him. He was actually becoming quite famous up here as the nice dog that wasn't getting adopted. When Dana and I returned from our Charleston trip, we found a sweet little female Beagle mix at North Country SPCA, but then we stopped at Elmore SPCA and met Homer in person.

What a charmer he was. He is about one to one and a half years old and was housebroken within a day or two, which means that he had been previously housebroken. It was my good fortune to find another great dog at a shelter, but it could be your good fortune the next time you are looking for a pet. I have never purchased a dog and I never will. The fees at the shelters, SPCAs and rescues can get high, but there is a high cost to caring for the unwanted pets that people give up. And they are giving up more and more of them in these tough economic times. The amount that I get back in companionship, enjoyment of my dogs' funny and crazy antics, and the unconditional love will make me sacrifice whatever I have to in order to keep dogs in my life.



The thing that you get from a rescued dog is the sense that they know how lucky they are. I know it might not look like it when they are sitting there howling like a Beagle, or barking like the PIT that Bailey is (PIT is our code for Pain in the Tookus... no, Bailey is not a Pit Bull, but more on that in a second). But when Homer plays with so much gusto with his toys, or zooms around the back yard with his brother Fred, or tries to coax Bailey into playing with him (no success there just yet), or walks up to Miller and convinces the 16+ year old dog to play with him - for a short period of time because Mommy decides that Homer is playing too rough for the old boy - it's during these times when you really can see how lucky he knows that he is. Or when he dives ahead of his brothers to get the choice spot on the bed at bedtime.






Dana and I tried to adopt a Pit Bull once. The Animal Welfare Shelter in Voorhees, New Jersey is a place from which I have adopted a number of my guys over the years. What we found was that if the Pit Bull was over a certain age, and that age wasn't much beyond six months or so, that the damage that had already been done to these poor dogs from the bad situations they had been rescued from made them unfit dogs for having in a household with more than one dog. We found some wonderful, sweet animals; the shelter was doing a great job spending time with and acclimating them to being with people. But they all had that aggression thing that just broke my heart. I knew I could not adopt these dogs since I will always have several dogs at any given time. The thought of what these incredibly strong dogs could do to Fred, or Boo back then...

I couldn't do it. These Bull and Staffordshire Terriers are wonderful dogs. If I were to ever buy a dog I could see buying one of these. I have kissed these dogs, and they have returned the affection. It is so sad the image that they have in society because of the training, and sometimes miserably bad breeding, that has gone on.

So, I have Homer now, comfortably ensconced in my canine brood, and comfortably ensconced on what used to be just Fred's bed. But Fred and Homer are sharing nicely these days. It's just one more satisfying accomplishment in my world of dogs.

And don't anyone try to tell me that this dog doesn't look grateful for where he's landed: