 Bailey
From Lois Gard:
I fostered 7-year old Bailey in the fall of 2006. She had come to
WIN from a backyard breeder who was going out of business. I was
immediately struck by Bailey’s very “non-wheaten” personality….no
curiosity, no eagerness to greet, no spirit or light in her eyes. It
was like someone turned the switch off. After several weeks of
fostering her, she slowly began to make eye contact, venture out of
her crate without fear, and cautiously seek out companionship. She
had a sweet disposition and deserved a forever home to live out her
senior years making up for all she had missed in life, someone with
patience, sensitivity, prior dog experience, and probably someone
with a bit of an adventuresome spirit - someone willing to accept a
dog who might never be a “typical” wheaten. A WIN applicant in
Canada seemed to fit the bill….David was devastated with the recent
loss of his elderly wheaten. He was an active, social person, and
best of all he was completely willing to do whatever was necessary
for the good of a dog.
Oh, and did I mention that David was in his 80’s?
Bailey and David have been together for nearly five years now.
He’s in his 90’s –Bailey is 12.
And in that time, I have been gifted by what I have learned from
the two of them:
- Maturity only adds to the pleasure and wisdom
that comes from sharing life with a dog that knows
it’s getting a second chance; and
- There’s hope for any dog, no matter how much
it’s spirit has been crushed.
Bailey and David are a partnership of keeping each
other healthy, happy and involved in life. What more
could one ask for?
I recently asked David if I could share his e-mails about his
sweet girl Bailey to use as her “success story.” He agreed. I’ll let
the e-mails tell the story:
February 2008:
I have fallen deeply in love with Bailey. I am not certain
whether she reciprocates this passion but I think she quite likes
me! She has learned a great deal since she came to live with me. But
what she has learned from me is absolutely nothing compared to what
I have learned from her. Among the things she has learned are how to
walk happily beside me with her head held high and her little tail
wagging cheerfully. How to go through doors without panicking. How
to go up and down stairs - she had absolutely no knowledge of stairs
when she came to me. How to get in and out of cars without hurting
herself. How to look me in the eye with trust. How to kiss my hands
as a
gesture of love. The things I have learned from her are manifold.
Among them are…patience, gentleness, respect, admiration, how to
teach without dominating or frightening, how to reassure and reward
by body language, but - above all, I think - she has taught me how
to ‘take love easy, as the leaves grow on the tree‘ as Yeats said in
The Sally Gardens. Foe all these, I am immensely grateful to her.
I knew it would be a slow business. I also knew that there were
things she probably would never learn. After all, she came to me
after seven years of almost no sensory inflow at all - except, of
course, the all-important one of caring for her puppies. Seven years
old, for a dog, is very late to start learning. But she has learned
a huge amount, starting from virtually zero base.
I have become increasingly expert at detecting minute increases
in her understanding. The most recent of these - which I only
recently discovered - is that she has learned how to play! A major
achievement! But let me tell you about her game…her favorite haven
is my bed, which is at the top of my three-level town-house. So,
between the door to the outside and the aforementioned bed there are
somewhere around thirty steps. When I go to the front door, rattle
her leash and call her she bounces off the bed (I can hear the
bounce two floors below!), trips down the stairs and stands almost,
but NEVER quite, within reach. When I advance toward her she makes
singing noises, wags her tail at great speed and dashes up round the
first corner. So I head upstairs after her to find her standing,
again, not quite within my reach. Lots of tail wagging and excited
squeaking noises and another dash out of sight and reach. This is
repeated several times until I finally catch up with her standing,
quivering with anticipation, on the far side of the bed. Then she
comes bounding downstairs on the leash, full of joy
and anticipation. For a long time I thought all this was because she
was frightened and that the sounds were those of terror. It was the
tail-wagging that finally made me realize that the sounds were
expressions of joy and the running away was a great game. How could
I have been so stupid? I think this is a really joyous advance,
don’t you?
Of course, she still has lots to learn - as do I. She still wont
come to me, even for food. On the other hand, she never runs away
from me now (except in play, as described above). She has barked
once - well, eight times, actually, but only on one occasion - about
nine months ago. She barks in her sleep occasionally but never when
awake, except that once. I find this really odd, don’t you?
Sometimes I wonder whether I imagined that she barked on that one
occasion. But I don’t think I did. I was so delighted by it. And, of
course, she still takes fright very easily. Noises, even very small
ones; sudden delays in the opening of doors or the removal of her
leash; loss of patience on my part with some inanimate object
(another fault she has taught me to overcome to a large extent!);
other dogs barking or being overly boisterous. All these and many
other disturbances cause her to lose courage. But she has come an
enormously long way. You are probably the only person I know who
understands the effects produced by almost total lack of sensory
inflow. I have to tell you that, if I have coped reasonably well
with Bailey’s ‘coming alive’ - and my friends seem to think I have -
I owe a very large part of my success to you. For which I offer you
abundant thanks.
Oh dear! I seem to have rather gone on and on, don’t I? And there
is so much more I could write about. There is just one thing I
really must tell you before I shut up. The son of a close friend of
mine, a very perceptive, intelligent young man in his late twenties
met Bailey for the first time a few months ago. After being in her
presence for about fifteen minutes he said “Your dog evokes
gentleness” This is absolutely spot on correct. He is a very
perceptive guy and he couldn’t have put it better. That is exactly
what she does. Everyone who meets her falls instantly in love with
her. Isn’t she a lucky dog?
And aren’t I lucky to have her?
If you have any advice to offer about helping Bailey to enjoy
life, don’t hesitate to let me know. Most of what I have managed to
do for her so far I have learned from you
David
October 2010:
Dear Lois:
How absolutely wonderful to hear from you! But, needless to say,
my pleasure was mingled with the guilt which hovers constantly
around really appalling correspondents like me for having failed to
write a single word to you for such an unforgivably long time. I
could make long, boring excuses for my silence; but I won’t – I’ll
just ask you, hopefully, to forgive me.
Guess who’s by my side at this very moment, politely anticipating
walkies, food, an affectionate stroke or, at the very least, a few
kind words? Right first time! My dear friend - and constant
companion - The Bailey Dog. Now in her eleventh year, she seems to
grow younger rather than older and never stops learning. Mind you,
she had a heap of learning to do, didn’t she, having been more or
less shut in a box, doing nothing but giving birth - and that which
precedes it - for the first seven years of her life? She has learnt
so much, and enjoys life such a lot, that you would be truly amazed
by her. Of course, there are some things she will never learn
because of her late start, such as playing games and coming when she
is called. But she has become deeply affectionate, lies beside me a
lot, bestows loving kisses, walks beside me with immense dignity and
– yes, really – talks to me in affectionate grunts quite a lot. We
have become very close indeed and – as I’m sure I have said to you
before – she has done much more for me than I have done for her. She
has taught me, for example, the qualities of patience and
acceptance, which are of inestimable value if one wants to be happy
as one toddles through one’s ninth decade. Also, of course, she
‘gets me out’ (as they say) which is as good for me as it is for
her. People tell me often that I don’t look my age and, if this is
true, Bailey is almost entirely responsible!
As far as I can see, Bailey has not a trace of aggression in her
make-up. She will walk within a foot of a squirrel, for example,
without showing any reaction except mild interest. I have never met
a dog before who could do that! Furthermore, she appears to be in
the very best of health. She eats absolutely anything offered to her
with endearing relish. I make a point of not over-feeding her and
she is still slim and youthful in appearance. Her only treat – and
mine, of course – is a very small quantity, daily, of Smith’s Potato
Chips. She absolutely adores them – I think it is probably the salt
she likes – and takes them from my fingers with the gentleness of a
turtle dove. I know you wouldn’t believe me if I said it – and of
course it is not true – but I’ll say it anyway. Every evening,
shortly before ‘Jeopardy’ (one of the very few TV programs I still
watch) Bailey trots downstairs, comes close to me and says, in
Wheatenese, “How about a few Smith’s chips?” They absolutely HAVE to
be Smith’s – Bailey knows that as well as I do and her enthusiasm
for any other brand is markedly lower!
Enough about Bailey and me. I could go on and on but I think you
will have got the message that she is still very much around and
kicking and that we are the very best of friends. She means the
world to me and I am eternally grateful to you for the vitally
important part you played in bringing us together.
How is life with you? From what I have gathered from your earlier
Emails your life has undergone some dramatic and joyful changes
since we met. I am most happy for you. Perhaps, if you have a
moment, you could let me know all about it. I also understood that
you had lost one of your beloved Wheaten friends. I was very sad
indeed to hear that. I know the deep sadness that losing a dog
brings. When I had to have the life of Zoe, my previous Wheaten
friend, terminated, I was completely devastated. Indeed, as you may
have gathered, the part you played in bringing Bailey and I together
was of enormous importance in restoring my sense of wellbeing, for
which I am eternally grateful to both of you.
I hear noises from upstairs which suggest that Bailey, who is now
up there, may be considering the beautiful fall weather outside far
too good for staying indoors. So I will go downstairs and get her
leash, then upstairs to get her (I am on the middle of the three
floors in my house) – my life is a constant succession of going up
and down thousands of stairs, which may be what keeps me fitter than
I have any right to expect at my advanced age! Do let me know about
what has been happening in your life since we last met. Come to
think of it, we only met once - and that for only about thirty
minutes! Difficult to believe – I feel I know you well and have
known you for ages and met you often.
Bailey sends a loving, grateful low-pitched grunt and a look of
deep contentment in two of the most beautiful eyes possessed by any
mammal.
Sincerely,
David.
February 2011 (When I asked David recently if I could use his
e-mails to tell Bailey’s story, this was his reply)
Hi, Lois:
My dear soul, it would be a true privilege to have you use
anything about my dear Bailey and anything at all that I have ever
written about her to you. If you want me to do anything to help do
please let me know. As you know, she is now 12 years old and has
adapted to a 'retired' life with a human who is now very slightly
older than her but will shortly become quite a bit younger, if one
works on the old formula which equates one dog year of age to seven
human ones. She is the light of my life and is directly responsible
for the fact that I neither act nor - if people are to be believed -
look my age.
She now lies beside me all evening and gives me lots of kisses.
The only thing she still doesn't do is come to me when I ask her to.
But she doesn't walk away and she comes at great speed if she thinks
food is involved. She has a magnificent appetite and will eat
absolutely ANYTHING. I have never seen a dog eat tomatoes with such
unbridled relish!
I have to tell you, again, how in awe I am of the way you care
for, handle, and understand dogs. You can only be adequately
described as a 'natural' where their welfare is concerned. You were
certainly instrumental in rescuing my dear friend Bailey and
bringing her and me together, for which I am eternally grateful. By
the way, she has asked me to send you her love and a worshipful, and
characteristically discrete, little wuff. Actually, as you know, she
NEVER barks. Well, to be entirely accurate, she barked seven times
one morning about three years ago standing on my bed but obviously
didn't like it much because she has never barked again. She does,
however, now talk to me quite a lot. Her language seems to consist
of a lot of peculiar little sounds ranging from squeaks to whines
and occasional strangled 'wuffy' noises. When this first started, I
thought it was a sign of distress but I have now realized that all
of these noises are signs of pleasure and anticipation. She has
changed my life for the better in a host of ways.
Do please let me know if I can be of any help.
David.
|
