they called her beagle bailey

she would run to him and give him 'the look' and then look at the fireplace clearly saying, "turn it on!"  my dad would always oblige and she'd curl up in her usual spot in front of it.  my mom would melt at her cuteness, get down on her knees and nuzzle into her warm body as moms do best.  bailey, no doubt, knew she was loved.

bailey was no ordinary dog (i think no adopted dog ever is).  she was a selective mute.  beagles are known for their loud, echoing bays.  it's this characteristic that adds to why they are a common hunter's dog.  but bailey wouldn't bay.  at least, not anymore.  my mom has always wondered why, wondered what happened to her, what her life used to be like.  i think these questions probably cross the mind of every dog owner that makes the decision to adopt.

when my mom first told me she wanted a dog, her own dog, i was so excited!  as a huge animal adoption advocate, i of course, immediately asked her to adopt.  probably as an effort to stop my begging, she said she'd look into it.  one day, while googling, my mom came across beagle paws.  it was a graphic image of a hunter's beagle on their wall of shame - it's raw bleeding paws, caged with only a wire floor - that did it.  my mom couldn't shake the feeling that she had to rescue one of these beagles.

bailey, a senior when she entered my parents' home, was slow to warm up to my mom + dad.  she sometimes, would stand and stare at them with a glazed look across her face.  once she got comfortable and realized this was her home, these were her people, man were they ever.  

for two and a half years bailey, you made us laugh.  you reminded us to have compassion.  you lent a big ol' listening ear.  you taught forgiveness.  you cuddled.  you snuggled.  you mooched.  and you made us laugh some more.

rest in peace.