When my daughter hurts, I hurt. All you moms and dads out there know what I’m talking about.
Over Easter weekend, Wendy and Jeremy were forced to put their beloved 11 year old dog, Bailey, to sleep, due to multiple problems, including old age and undiagnosed diabetes. He was a big dog, with a broad smile and a beautiful whitish coat. He stood by Wendy through thick and thin, in the singularly devoted way dogs do–we always thought Bailey knew he’d been rescued, and he was clearly grateful. I vividly recall the day Wendy brought him, as a frisky puppy, to my office in Port Orchard. She’d just lost her other dog, Oscar, and Bailey joined the family.
I comfort my daughter, future son-in-law and myself with this thought: because Wendy adopted him, he enjoyed a long, happy life, overflowing with love. And he gave so much more than he got.
So good-bye for now, old dog. You were a gift to all of us, and I thank you, from the bottom of my mother’s heart, for loving my precious daughter, for protecting her, and for cheering her through dark days. You did a good job, and you deserve to run, free of pain, in the deep green grass of heaven.
I’ll see you on the other side of the river.