I don’t feel like writing much of a post today. Today Mr. Pilver’s dog, Bailey, was put down. Bailey lived to be fourteen years old and had been having a hard time walking for quite some time. She took a fall around Christmas and within a few days couldn’t even stand up. Bailey may have not been the best dog in the world, but she was easily the best dog I have ever met, a dream of a pet.
We buried her in the flower bed, where she loved to lay in the summer because the dirt was cold from being watered. Mr. P. added a plate of table scraps, a stick, and one of her toys before sprinkling some of his mother’s ashes (She passed away in 2005 and was the one who him Bailey).
When I moved out to Washington to marry Mr. P., Bailey was quite upset that her place in the bed was taken. And for some time, we had to share the other side of the bed. She always snuggled for a few minutes, grew too hot for the blankets, and resumed her spot on the colder floor. I’m lucky to have a husband who loves me so much, but I was happy to share the top spot in his heart with Bailey. Actually, I think he loved her more, she was that good.