Walking Bailey
Bailey became our morning walking partner several weeks
after the loss of our old dog Marshall. We were on the rebound, so to speak, as
we walked by our neighbor’s small, fence-enclosure adjacent to the side door of
his bungalow. Suddenly, we saw two dark eyes looking mournfully at us and a
funny, curled tail tentatively moving back and forth as we drew closer.
We were hooked. We walked into the yard and up to the fence.
The eyes lit up while the tail began furiously whipping the air. It was as if
this little girl had been waiting for us since Marshall was put into the
ground. The furball begged to be petted and we couldn’t resist. As we reached
over the fence, the little bundle of energy jumped from one of us to the other.
Our neighbor emerged from his side door that led to the fence.
“She is Bailey,” he said. She likes people.”
It was an understatement. Bailey loves people: Old people,
young people, kids on bicycles, people in cars, people walking by his yard,
skinny people and fat people. Especially fat people, including Steve, the middle-aged
owner, who is too fat and too health-limited to walk Bailey. We talked with
Steve, and he allowed as how, yes, Bailey would love to go for a walk with us.
That was last winter. We got into the habit of walking
Bailey around the neighborhood on most mornings that our schedule allowed and
Steve’s phone was working well-enough to give his consent. Bailey got used to
the routine of the phone ringing (our morning call to arrange the walk) and her
evacuation to the fenced yard, followed by us ambling by. Steve says that now
as soon as the phone rings in the morning, Bailey runs to the door, waiting to
be let out. By the time we arrive, Bailey is on her hind legs at the fence,
making little pirouettes and, not barking, but whimpering in the way little
dogs do when they just can’t wait for something, or someone, in our case. We
connect Bailey to a lead and open the fence gate and she begins her walk after
she has flagged us with her tail for a few minutes while we provide her
mandatory petting.
My walk is shorter as I divert to a neighbor’s house for
coffee while Marjorie and Bailey continue down our road before we meet up again
for the walk home. Marjorie walks several thousand steps during her 45 minute
stroll. Bailey walks a few million steps during the same time as her short
little legs move almost too fast to be seen. She crosses the road several
hundred times, stopping to smell everything that passed by the night before,
including the dead snake that was struck by a car and that she pees on nearly
every day. If we stop for any reason, she nuzzles up to our legs for a few
caresses before continuing on the journey.
She is a treat. I think she adds something to our morning
walk and we look for her most days. I think our old dog Marshall would approve.
