For the first year or so that Deb and I dated, she had her dog Bailey living out with her folks as she got ready to sell the house she was in. She didn't have him around much until the Fall of 05 when she finally got settled into her new house.
I've always really liked animals and Bailey's easy-going demeanor made it easy to get attached to him. The nice thing about a Beagle-sized dog is that they're very portable. Pretty much everywhere Deb went, along came Bailey.
Being a dog, Bailey spend a lot of time doing normal dog stuff, such as waiting for anything that might be eaten to drop from the table, or dragging butt across the carpet when he thought you weren't looking. Being a hound, he did a lot of hound stuff, including sniffing out things under the refrigerator or stove, or occasionally making the goofy barking "bay" noise hounds make. Being on in years (he as 9 when I met him), he did a lot of older dog stuff including a vast array of bodily noises and a great deal of sleeping. So in most ways he was an old hound dog. He was Deb's Old Hound Dog but it was easy to start thinking of him as Our Old Hound Dog.
But beyond that he seemed to be oddly perceptive at times. When I was having some work done in my bedroom, we spent a week or so sleeping in the guest bedroom. So, naturally, the dog bed stuff was in there too. One night we decided the work was complete enough to sleep back in the main bedroom again. While getting ready for bed, I noticed a pile of dog bed stuff on the floor, with Bailey busily trying to get the main cushion turned right-side-up. I asked Deb if she'd brought the dog bed stuff over and she hadn't...somehow he realized we were going to sleep there and he did it himself. He was also terrified of my cats (with good reason), so when any sort of fetch was being played in the house, he'd first have to figure out where the cats were so he could have clear lines of fetch - often through a completely different part of the house - so that he could run and not risk getting pounced on. This inevitably led to Bailey trying to get you to chase him, and after you started he'd realize that he'd forgotten his main rule of "Chase", which was that he needed to have something to pretend he was keeping from you. So mid-run, he'd dart off up the stairs to look for a toy or something, then come right back down and pick up where he left off. If you didn't follow the rules of Chase, he'd generally stop playing and start baying/barking at you.
In November of 2005, he started getting blood in his urine, and Deb took him into the vet. They came back a few days later with a diagnosis of bladder cancer, which is fairly common in Beagles and tends to be very aggressive. The best bet was a steroid called Proxicam, so Deb started Bailey on that. The vet gave him 3-6 months tops. I believed this and began to bend most of the Dog Rules, such as "no table scraps from the table." I figured it was okay to give a little bit given his condition, not thinking he'd be around for so long. I totally spoiled him and he was glued to me every time I went near the dinner table.
When the word 'cancer' shows up, I did what most cyclists do. I thought of the LiveSTRONG yellow bracelets. I went and got a purple collar, cut up two bracelets and made him a LiveSTRONG collar. Not only was he rolling Lance-style, but he was dressed up in UW Husky colors as well. Deb & I are both alums and it was a big hit here in the area.
As time went on, he had a couple of rough patches where we thought he was headed downhill but they ended up being bladder infections. But he did have more and more trouble going to the bathroom (the tumor can block the urethra and/or make it hard for them to tell when they need to go or don't). Even with these changes, 95% of the time he acted like a pretty happy dog and I got pretty used to having him around.
A few weeks ago things started to change. Bailey's energy level started going down and a week or so ago he started getting picky about foods he normally loves. Over this last weekend things were clearly getting worse and he was shaking constantly - without a fever this usually means a dog is in a fair amount of pain. If we got him outside he perked up and seemed much better. We took him down to the water front on Saturday night then to the dog park (his favorite) on Sunday. At the dog park he trotted around and sniffed for a few minutes then decided he was just going to sit in the sun. We almost had to carry him back to the car.
Sunday night I got stuck being up late cleaning up a leaking water heater. Bailey was in his bed but was constantly moving around, trying other parts of the room, different positions. He couldn't get comfortable and wasn't getting to sleep. He seemed miserable and I stayed up with him for a few hours late Sunday night. Deb had some emergency pain killers for him and it was a chore getting one down him. He had figured out which bits of food had his medicine in them and which didn't. If he made a mistake, he'd spit out the pills. Finally we got the pill in him and it helped him rest a bit. A few hours later he started throwing up though - not sure if it was from the meds or from stress or what. Bailey was not doing well. When we got up the next morning he looked at me with eyes that said everything I needed to know about what was going on with him. I'll never forget that.
Around lunchtime we got into a local vet to have him put to sleep. The first question she asked is whether or not we'd like to be present. This question kind of shocked me - do people really say 'no'? I'm sure someone reading this will have done this but I can't even fathom someone doing that. Sure, it's hard, but you've made the call and it seems like the right thing to stay there until the end. Okay, end soapbox. Anyway, it was over quickly, and Bailey was quiet and calm through the whole visit.
So, Bailey, aka Peanut, aka Dr. Snortenstein, aka Pig, here's to you. Thanks for cleaning the plates, thanks for making us laugh in so many ways, thanks for being such a great friend. We already miss ya buddy.