Bailey was a beautiful Shepherd/Lab mix that I found as a 5 week old pup in a pet store window in PA. A nearby farm had a litter of pups and brought them to the pet store to try to find homes for them. I was visiting a friend and we were just walking through town and the next thing I knew I found my girl. She was too young for them to release, so they told me to come back in a week.
In the meantime I suffered a totally ruptured disc in my neck and was told I needed emergency surgery. I refused surgery until I could go back to PA and get my pup. The surgeon was aghast and told me I would have to lie down in the car the whole way so as to avoid any further compression of the nerve, so I did, and brought Bailey home.
I had a 10 week post surgical rehab, so it gave me plenty of time to bond with Bailey, and as the years passed the bond continued to grow and grow. She was very well behaved, always stayed by my side off lead and accompanied me on hikes, to friends houses, kids sporting events, everywhere. She loved to play soccer outside in the yard, or even in the house where she would pick a doorway as a goal and defend it like a pro.
At a young age (about 3yrs) she developed epilepsy. Doctors didn't know why, so she went on Phenobarbital and we were able to control the seizures pretty well, only a few a year. Whenever she felt one coming on she would come tell me, or if I was asleep would lie down right on top of me. I would hold her and comfort her until it passed and she was calm. The recognition of the comfort she sought from me when scared created my strongest maternal bond to any animal I had ever had to that point.
When she was about 5 years old I brought her home a little German Shepherd pup named Chance. At first Bailey wasn't to sure about this pup who interfered with the soccer games and stole all the toys, but overtime they became close. Sadly they would only have a few months together before Bailey would suffer a ruptured spleen and we would lose her from our lives.
I didn't recognize the signs... I came home at lunch to let them both out and Bailey had been sick. I thought she had either just had a seizure or was about to have one, so I stayed with her for an hour. But she seemed okay, off, but not something I recognized as serious. So I went back to work, a decision which will haunt me for a lifetime. When I returned, she was very ill and despite attempts to provide her with the best possible medical care, she passed away during the night without my being able to be by her side to comfort her.
Bailey also taught me to accept that a dog is a dog and will always behave like a dog. I used to naively think that if I told my dog not to tear up a roll of toilet paper, that they would learn not to tear up the toilet paper, how silly. Animals just like humans are prone to guilty pleasures, and entitled to them. That pulling and tearing instinct to them is too satisfying to resist when opportunity is left carelessly in plain sight. I learned not to expect perfection, to allow my dogs to be dogs, and to be careful where I put things. I even learned to accept (though it always freaked me out) that dogs will bring you presents you don't want, like those giant cicada bugs and leave them by your chair still flapping and buzzing...
But along with all their “always gonna be a dog" stuff, is also the ability to bridge the canine human gap and form a bond of love and trust which to me is stronger then many human to human relationships. Bailey also taught me that.
She was a very special gentle soul, and intelligent as they come. Her life was way too short, but I hope that it was full for her and that she is now at the Bridge with Tanner who went before her, and Chance who was reunited with her 2 years ago. I hope they have all the toys in the heavens to shred and endless games of soccer to play.... And I hope that someday, I will see them all again.....
I miss you Honey Bear...
Love,
Mom
Memorial Hall of Fame
Fluffernutter
Fluffernutter
In October of 1993, we adopted two Maine Coon cats from a rescue shelter in Randolph, NJ: Fluffernutter and his sister, Jack.The two were inseparable as they would eat, sleep and play together all day.Fluffenutter was always the “cowardly lion” and Jack was always the fearless adventurer.Being so, Fluffernutter would follow Jack (sometimes reluctantly) on her excursions and explorations.
At times they could often be found in strange predicaments whether atop the Christmas tree or a newfound crawlspace underneath the stairs.Fluffernutter would always seem a bit anxious when found, but he would never leave his sister’s side, no matter how much she challenged his timid and kind nature.
In June of 2001, Jack started to become despondent, sleeping most of the day and eating little.Fluffernutter, like the big Prince he was, could always be found at her side, washing her and keeping her warm as he would place his paws around her back.In July of 2001 Jack was diagnosed with a terminal brain tumor.The recommendation was to “…put her to sleep.”For the next 2 weeks, Fluffernutter never left Jack; accompanying her to the food and water bowl and even to the litter box.Finally came the day Jack would be taken to the Vet. As we prepared the carrier, Jack slowly looked up, and then, turning her attention to Fluffernutter, licked him behind his ear as if to say goodbye.We gently placed Jack in the carrier; as we closed the carrier’s door, Fluffernutter let out a cry and pawed at the door.All the way to the downstairs door, Fluffernutter followed.His last sight of Jack was seeing her taken through that door. For months afterward, Fluffernutter would sleep most of the day; he seldom ate and would often go to the same downstairs door that Jack was taken out, pawing and crying at it for hours at a time.The door had become a barrier between him and his beloved sister.Through much love and understanding, Fluffernutter eventually came out of his funk.Although he would still on occasion, and for the rest of his days, go to that door and cry.
Despite his grief, the beautiful nature of this gentle prince became ever more evident as he could always be depended on for a much needed head bump, or snuggle when life got a little hectic.He would always say “thank you” for his treats in his own kind way and developed a love for sleeping on my shoulder while I would read my books - a challenge given his size.
On a cold and rainy September afternoon, Fluffernutter was diagnosed with failing kidneys.His time was short, yet even so, his nature remained compassionate and loving.The Doctor told us to bring him in when we knew “it was time”.It would be on an October day I would come home to see Fluffernutter sitting in a spot of sun on the living room floor.As he slowly looked up at me, his beautiful green eyes seemed to say, “It’s time.”With a heavy heart I prepared the carrier.
Uncharacteristically, Fluffernutter slowly walked into the carrier by himself.As I carried him to the downstairs door, I couldn’t help but think of the day Jack was taken through that same door, and for the same reason.
At the Vet’s office the mood was solemn; we said little as our eyes conveyed our anguish.As they shaved a spot on his left hind paw in preparation for the procedure, I gently stroked his still beautiful coat.Although weakened and dying, Fluffernutter remained quietly noble.In the final moments, I bent down, kissed his head and told him I loved him.I like to think that in those final moments, Fluffernutter dreamt of going to that downstairs door that Jack had been taken out all those years ago.Only this time, it would not be a barrier or obstruction.And in his dream the door opens and Jack is there waiting for him, as they cross the rainbow bridge – together. Fluffernutter showed us that although a spirit can be bent by sorrow, it can never be broken. His life was a testament to this in that despite his pain, his beautiful nature still shone through, transcending all time and boundaries.Good night sweet prince.
Freddie (foreground) was our very first Golden Retriever. As we were then ignorant about the idea of not supporting the puppy mill suppliers, we purchased Freddie from a pet store. He was way too big for his small cage and had been returned to the store after only three weeks in a new home. Apparently, the previous owners had no idea how large a Golden Retriever could grow and brought him back when they finally studied the breed! In addition, Freddie's price had been reduced twice. It really bothered us that this beautiful creature was "on sale", it seemed demeaning to this magnificent creature! We couldn't imagine how badly Freddie's life had gone so far and decided he was the one for us. He was then four months old.
When we brought Freddie home, he was quiet and shy. That first night, we placed him between us on the bed so we would hear if he had to go out. That "little" puppy didn't bark or cry all night, at one point, we were alarmed thinking something had happened to him. But it was just that Freddie was afraid we would take him back again if he whimpered or cried. Needless to say, the love affair did not end and Freddie spent 13 wonderful years with us. He was an excellent swimmer, runner... a blaze of gold across the field.
A gentle giant, Freddie once cornered a groundhog that lived under the barn. They stared at each other a bit and then the groundhog hissed and Freddie slowly backed away. He hadn't meant to frighten his new friend. He didn't have a mean bone in his body. He just wanted the chase and play.
Freddie was stoic, strong and beloved by everyone in his family. Later in life, his hips gave out and finally, he was unable to walk. We put Freddie to sleep with tears, loving caresses and memories of a lifetime of joyous experiences. The last thing Freddie remembered was being fed bits of filet mignon until the peaceful transition brought him to Rainbow Bridge. We know we will see Freddie again.
