Last week, my friends Bob and Clair had to put their dog, Baylee, down. Baylee was a 15-year-old black Lab who, in dog years, had a long life. Being that she was well loved for all those years, she also had a good life. Bob and Clair knew her end was coming. A couple months ago, she tried to get up one morning from her perch beside their bed and just couldn’t. From that point on, Bob started carrying all 110 pounds of her up the stairs each night when it was time for bed and then back down again the next morning when it was time for breakfast. In the late afternoons he’d carry her from the living room into the dining room just so she could be with them while they read the newspaper and ate dinner. When it was clear that carrying her was causing her too much pain, they tried to do as much as they could in just one room of the house. It would not surprise me to hear that Bob slept a couple nights on the couch downstairs, one arm dangling off the side, gently rubbing Baylee’s ears until they both fell asleep. I don’t know if they just wanted to be close to Baylee or if they wanted her to be close to them; in case something happened and she needed help quick. My guess is, they just wanted her to know she wasn’t alone, for sometimes this is the best and only thing we can do, especially in the face of death. The day before Baylee died, Bob and Clair’s adult daughter, who no longer lives with them, drove 4 hours to come home and see Baylee one last time.
For all this, one might never guess that when they first got Baylee, Bob in particular did not want her. If you were to ask him why, he doesn’t really know. It may have something to do with how much he loved the dog they had before Baylee. It may have to do with the way Baylee terrorized their home at first. When she was still just a pup, they came home one day to find their Christmas tree lying on the ground, Baylee chewing on grandma’s homemade ornament and lying in a puddle of water, spilled out of the stand. They went without a tree that year. But they set up an eight-foot aluminum ladder in the living room and wrapped it in lights. Baylee didn’t seem to mind that. Bob, however, did. For the longest time, he did not want Baylee, going out of his way to not pay her any mind.
Then, not long after that notorious Christmas, she got terribly sick. In a strange premonition, perhaps, of things to come, she woke up one morning unable to walk. Like a leper, her paws were shedding their skin. The doctor at the animal hospital said that with some time and medicine she would be alright, but in the meantime, someone was going to have to carry her whenever she needed to go out, come back in, or just roll over.
Given that Bob worked from home, he was duly appointed for the job. Against his own will, of course. Also, of course, the job wasn’t going to be easy. For one thing, no one who is missing their protective layer wants to be touched. It’s too risky, too painful. And so, even man’s best friend will bristle, bark, and bite at the hand which reaches out to feed, lift, and heal her. She does not know how badly she needs that hand to never pull away.
When I spoke with Bob last week, I asked him, “When did you come to love Baylee?” He told me, “While she was suffering.” He did not love that she was suffering. No, no. He came to love her while she was suffering. While he was reaching out to touch her, to pick her up off the ground and carry her, and one day, she just let her whole body fall into his arms with a trusting sigh.
Look, I swear by my own dog who is currently curled up on my feet after having been scolded for barking to go outside only to stick her nose up at the wind that every problem our world faces can be solved by a simple willingness on our part to take care of each other. Because when we are caring for each other, it is impossible to be mean. When we are caring for each other, we are not only making each other better, we are making ourselves and every creature of the earth better, too. And that is a world worth having.
PleaseGrace 