Dear Bailey,
I remember the first day I saw your tiny ears and paws. It may not have been the most conventional way to get a dog, but I'll be forever grateful to Aer Lingus for flying you safely over 3 thousand miles to your new American home. You were hiding in your red crate, the one we had to wean you off of years and years later. It was probably your earliest memory, your first constant comfort.
You were the cutest puppy ever. You slid over the wooden kitchen floor, tried to turn around in your crate at night and desperately longed for a belly rubbing. The night we brought you home, I begged to play with you in the den, but you had to stay put where we could keep an eye on you.
Dad wanted no funny business. The first mission was to get you house-trained. You made a few mistakes, but what pooch doesn't? In the end you got the hang of it, and could simply scratch the back door as a request to go out.
It was the most annoying thing — getting up from watching cartoons to let you out.
"You let her out, I'll let her in." My sister and I would trade.
What I would do right now to let you out one more time.
You never did get the hang of playing fetch. You preferred Kayla's Little Tikes helicopter and a meat bone squeaky toy to a tennis ball. Rolling over wasn't your thing unless it meant a thorough rubbing, and forget about "gimme paw." You didn't have time to amuse us; you were too busy chasing squirrels, cats, birds and the fish in our pond.
I remember the first time I saw you eat a bee. I was on the swing set and I freaked out. She'll get stung! I thought.
Or the time you got locked in the front hall on Halloween with all the candy. You devoured the chocolate and I cried watching Mom feed you bread and ketchup to help you throw up.
You had so many narrow misses, Bailey. Sometimes we wondered if you were really a cat, taking advantage of all nine lives.
Thank you for always being there to cuddle. A dog who would play fetch would be cool, but what good is that when you've failed a math test or you're home alone and hear a scary noise?
Thank you for not giving a care in the world. Your sassiness was inspiring and the highlight of my days.
Thank you for always coming back home. Toward the end, your "who cares" attitude was a little frightening at times, but you always came sashaying back down the block.
Thank you for being the most beautiful dog I could have ever owned. Any owner will think the same about their pet, but there was no denying it, Bailey, you were a super model.
First-grade me predicted you would be gone by the time I graduated high school. I finally realized what "death," and "life expectancy" meant, and I wanted to make sure you were going to stick around. Well you did, and then some. It may have flown by, but you had 13 great years that weren't expected and could never be replaced. You had an amazing life and brought a spark to everyone else's.
We may get another dog, but it will not be able to "hide your eyes," like you did.
Forever yours,
Madison
