Jessie, Toby, Cynthia (Bailey's Mom), and BaileyThe following was sent to me by Bailey's Mommy. It touched my heart and I know it will yours.
We came to Bailey, and not the other way around, to help a young male Labrador we had adopted from a breeder. That was a mistake. Unfortunately, this frightened dog, whom we named Jake, was never socialized with humans. So, at 8 months of age, it was too late. We were at wits' end. Many suggested we have him euthanized. But, as far as we were concerned, that was not an option. At last, we found a Labrador Retriever rehabilitator who suggested we temporarily bring another dog into our home, to see if this would help give Jake more confidence and less fear the world around him.
Yes, you guessed it, enter Bailey. This significantly over weight and rambunctious 22-month-old female was being fostered by an older couple who were no match for her energy and curiosity. Bailey’s history included a lot of food to fill her days and make up for the lack of activity. She was a medium-sized Labrador who tipped the scale at 95 lbs.
When we arrived at the house, Bailey ran around in circles as if overjoyed to have company at the house. As I sat down on a chair, she jumped up and rested her front paws and head in my lap as if to say, ‘I am so happy you are here’. My husband looked at me and said in a low voice, “she’s a handful”. But that is what we thought Jake needed. For a temporary period of time, so we thought.
Bailey very willingly came home with us that same day. Her misty-eyed foster parents waved good-bye. After that day, we never looked back, for 9 years. Bailey’s presence was only a temporary fix for Jake. Therefore, we decided to send Jake to Best Friend’s Sanctuary in Kanab, UT.
So, Jake went and Bailey stayed. How lucky we were! With a smart diet and days of hiking and swimming, Bailey lost 30 lbs and turned into a beautiful, unique looking chocolate Labrador. The vet suspected she was English bred because of her stocky stature, square face (unusual for females), reddish brown wavy coat, and white patch on her chest.
To say that Bailey was a delight would be an understatement. She was our girly girl. We took her everywhere… road trips to Newfoundland, New Mexico, Arizona, the Carolinas, Florida Pan Handle, and numerous ferry rides to Block Island, RI where she learned how to swim in the many ponds and body surf in the Atlantic Ocean.
She was intuitive, licking tears from your face or snuggling next to you just when you needed it. But Bailey also let you know what she wanted. When she wanted to play, she’d grab several (sometimes 4) plush toys (a.k.a. woobies) in her mouth and saunter over to you and push them into your lap while looking up at you with her pleading eyes. When she was happy to see you she’d twirl in circles which we lovingly called pirouettes. As she got older and her hip dysplasia became more pronounced, her pirouettes ended and instead, she’d make a sweet crying sound as she happily trotted over to you, always pressing her head and shoulders into your knees just to make sure you knew how happy she was to see you. Bailey knew just how to thank you. If we filled or freshened her water bowl on one of our long hikes she’d lick our face as we poured and after we poured the water.
Bailey just knew. She knew how to connect with people. We created our own special language with Bailey (some of which was indecipherable to others like ‘imaughwa’) which allowed us to communicate our feeling to one other. And, this special language in which you happily participated in, was always filled with love and appreciation.
Bailey was almost 11 when she passed away. I know that sounds old but she really wasn’t. Before the cancer she’d hike 10 miles and always be ahead of her sibling who was 2 ½ years younger. Bailey always had to be up front walking with my husband. Now, when we go for hikes and I look ahead at my husband, he walks alone. But I often envision her happy gait with her tail swaying from side to side as she walked with her Dadee! I’d like to think that although I can’t see her that somehow she’s still walking with him.
Bailey, we had so many ‘pet’ names for you which you happily acknowledged. But the one that best sums you up is ‘Sweetie’. Goodbye, Sweetie. You will be forever missed and loved. There will never be another like you.
Yes, you guessed it, enter Bailey. This significantly over weight and rambunctious 22-month-old female was being fostered by an older couple who were no match for her energy and curiosity. Bailey’s history included a lot of food to fill her days and make up for the lack of activity. She was a medium-sized Labrador who tipped the scale at 95 lbs.
When we arrived at the house, Bailey ran around in circles as if overjoyed to have company at the house. As I sat down on a chair, she jumped up and rested her front paws and head in my lap as if to say, ‘I am so happy you are here’. My husband looked at me and said in a low voice, “she’s a handful”. But that is what we thought Jake needed. For a temporary period of time, so we thought.
Bailey very willingly came home with us that same day. Her misty-eyed foster parents waved good-bye. After that day, we never looked back, for 9 years. Bailey’s presence was only a temporary fix for Jake. Therefore, we decided to send Jake to Best Friend’s Sanctuary in Kanab, UT.
So, Jake went and Bailey stayed. How lucky we were! With a smart diet and days of hiking and swimming, Bailey lost 30 lbs and turned into a beautiful, unique looking chocolate Labrador. The vet suspected she was English bred because of her stocky stature, square face (unusual for females), reddish brown wavy coat, and white patch on her chest.
To say that Bailey was a delight would be an understatement. She was our girly girl. We took her everywhere… road trips to Newfoundland, New Mexico, Arizona, the Carolinas, Florida Pan Handle, and numerous ferry rides to Block Island, RI where she learned how to swim in the many ponds and body surf in the Atlantic Ocean.
She was intuitive, licking tears from your face or snuggling next to you just when you needed it. But Bailey also let you know what she wanted. When she wanted to play, she’d grab several (sometimes 4) plush toys (a.k.a. woobies) in her mouth and saunter over to you and push them into your lap while looking up at you with her pleading eyes. When she was happy to see you she’d twirl in circles which we lovingly called pirouettes. As she got older and her hip dysplasia became more pronounced, her pirouettes ended and instead, she’d make a sweet crying sound as she happily trotted over to you, always pressing her head and shoulders into your knees just to make sure you knew how happy she was to see you. Bailey knew just how to thank you. If we filled or freshened her water bowl on one of our long hikes she’d lick our face as we poured and after we poured the water.
Bailey just knew. She knew how to connect with people. We created our own special language with Bailey (some of which was indecipherable to others like ‘imaughwa’) which allowed us to communicate our feeling to one other. And, this special language in which you happily participated in, was always filled with love and appreciation.
Bailey was almost 11 when she passed away. I know that sounds old but she really wasn’t. Before the cancer she’d hike 10 miles and always be ahead of her sibling who was 2 ½ years younger. Bailey always had to be up front walking with my husband. Now, when we go for hikes and I look ahead at my husband, he walks alone. But I often envision her happy gait with her tail swaying from side to side as she walked with her Dadee! I’d like to think that although I can’t see her that somehow she’s still walking with him.
Bailey, we had so many ‘pet’ names for you which you happily acknowledged. But the one that best sums you up is ‘Sweetie’. Goodbye, Sweetie. You will be forever missed and loved. There will never be another like you.
