Last year I lost my english mastiff, Bailey (officially Stellar Bailey My Love, CGC). I had her euthanized, while I petted her, telling her how beautiful and loved she was. She declined suddenly just after her 10th birthday - on Thanksgiving Day. She came in from the yard limping badly. She had been on pain medication for arthritis for two years. She would stay close to me over these last two years, as close as she could... because touch became painful. Even knowing that she was getting very old, I could never be ready. Hoping against hope that she injured a back or leg and with appropriate care she would recover, it quickly became apparent that it wasn't going to be that way. I consulted several specialists and got several opinions. She had all of the testing I thought could be conclusive without causing her unnecessary pain. Ultimately, it turned out that she had bone cancer and kidney failure. I had been afraid of cancer for several years. But, there is no real test for cancer. Nothing that shows in yearly physicals. Her last days were at home, with me giving her IV fluids and hand feeding her while I got all of the veterinary advice I needed to make a very hard decision. When it became very clear that her life would end within a few days regardless, I chose to have her euthanized so she wouldn't suffer any more. She was ready. She was much more ready than I was. I miss her so much.
But her death doesn't define her life. She was so much more than a dog. I have had many animals, but none with whom I communicated so deeply and with so much emotion. She was so smart, knowing more than 50 words, some both by hand motion and by voice. She could interpret commands in context. She was joy and loyalty, devotion and contrariness. We were nearly always touching.. even just a toe on her hip. She slept with me, sliding down the side of my body with hers, to ensure close contact when she laid down. She woke me at times with a paw over either shoulder and one by either hip, her big face eclipsing mine as her huge tongue made quick work of my whole face in three swipes. She was gentle.. standing so still as a toddler walked up and leaned on her at the store.. very gently wagging her tail and making sure to stay still as she swung her head around to give him a gentle, tentative lick on his nose - much to his delight. She liked to be home most. She grieved when I was away. She followed me from room to room. She knew every mood and cared about every trial. And I loved her so.
She was very beautiful. She won reserve at her second show. We stopped showing because she didn't like all of the hubbub. She was typey and wonderful. The Stellar line fully health tests and has very high standards for both breeding and for puppy homes. All of Bailey's sisters and brothers (10 in all) were lovely (and many are still living as of today - at 10.5 years old).
I loved stroking her velvety head, breathing in her puppy breath, teaching her new tricks, like high five and playing dead. I loved watching her run like the wind - so much faster and graceful than I ever expected - and watching her wade in the area of the pool I had built for her (she didn't like to swim in deeper water). I loved falling asleep with my legs arranged around her on the couch, and having her sit in my lap like she fit there (she thought she was lap-sized), and holding her head on my lap (it took up the whole space). I loved hearing her snore (it gave me giggles), and I was completely accustomed to stepping over and around her every day of her life. I got her when she was 8 weeks exactly (and 19 pounds). I loved watching her try to anticipate what command would get her the treat I was holding - throwing herself this way and that into various poses.. doing the spin command.. and watching her delight in finding treats I had hidden for her to "track".
And if she was afraid of storms and didn't like being away from the house too much - well, that was fine by me. And if she jumped over the arms of the couch like a gazelle, well, she was beautiful and graceful and playful and sweet. And she took to low-impact agility like she was made for it (to direct her energy in a safer direction than kamakazi couch jumping). I have never been more surprised than watching her jump over a 4 foot fence like she was on pogo legs. Except maybe when I told her in an off-hand way to go make the cat stop being bad.. and she actually did. I'm positive she knew more english than I knew dog. And if she spent her entire second year eating all of the right shoes in my closet.. and 'reading' as many books as she could find ... she was an amazing playmate for me. And so gentle.. finding a baby bird in the yard and licking it until I came to find it and clean it up and put it back, unharmed, in its nest. And if she sometimes stepped on my feet with her big bruisers.. well, she also kept me warm all winter long.
I take solace in knowing that she knew how much I loved her.. and love her still. That she got the best life I could provide. That she was adored and appreciated for everything that made her special. Her devotion - her unequivocable love and support - they leave a vast hole. I have her ashes at home - because I couldn't bear to be parted with her the distance to our family's pet graveyard. I have her favorite toys nearby and pictures of all the years I had her with me. And at night, I hug my pillow and remember how she felt lying next to me .. warm furry love-doggy from shoulders to knees.
And, if you don't quite understand what all the fuss is about.. that's ok too. But I hope someday you do. Because all of the pain now is entirely worth having had her with me for 10 beautiful years.
I love you Bailey Boo.
Jen
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