The Old Man and the Shade

Bailey, my oldest dog, is fourteen this summer. That's pretty old in dog years, and finally, after spending so much time in perpetual puppyhood, Bailey is acting his age.

Bailey is the sweetest dog I have ever had. A Newfie/Golden Retriever mix (technically a Flat-Coat Retriever), he has the best termperament. He is a total love bug - adores giving kisses, high fives (or low fives) and getting his big ole' belly rubbed. When he was younger, he would love to swim in the neighbor's pools (shhh - don't tell them!). He has the webbed feet of the Newfie and boy, did he put them to good use. We also gave him a kiddie pool, and there was nothing better for him than laying in that pool catching some rays.

This morning, he fell when he was trying to go outside. His back legs just up and gave out on him and he went "kerploot" on the hardwoods. He couldn't develop any traction, so I had to lift him up. Bailey is not a little thing either - he's almost 130 pounds! After that, he was fine, but he had this look on his face like, "this is SO humiliating..." Poor thing.

Bailey loves to walk about the neighborhood with me. In his advanced age, there is no longer the need for a leash, so I let him out and he moseys along with me. He never goes farther than the corner by himself, and he likes to watch Carl and I unload the car after a shopping trip. Sometimes, I think I see a glimpse of his past, when he would happily hop into the truck, stick his head out the window and drooooool. This boy LOVED riding in the car. Now he can't even get in, even with his little ramp.

It would appear that the time is coming where we will have to let him go. He has been one of the biggest blessings in my life. We rescued him on his last day of life (another story) - and he ended up rescuing us right back.