#baileythewonderdog

When I first introduced Bailey to social media, I began tagging most of the far too frequent Facebook photos of her as Bailey the Wonderdog (#baileythewonderdog on Twitter and Instagram). Even I thought this was just a fun nickname by an overly proud canine parent who, like all overly proud canine parents, thinks that their dog is more wonderful than any other dog could possibly be. But as we end 2013, and as she has done throughout the year, Bailey has proven herself worthy of this moniker. She is a wonder dog.

It is not because Bailey is any more wonderful than any other dog (although, as an overly proud canine parent I believe that she is!), but because she repeatedly and frequently fills the rest of us with wonder. Her vets are in wonder of how, with cancer now having spread to nearly all her organ systems, she continues to show such minimal impairment from it. Friends are in wonder about how happy and joyful she appears. The dog park community, especially those who witnessed her seizure, are in wonder of how she keeps coming back to soak up more of their love. And I am in wonder not only of how she continues to survive with an illness that should have killed her many months ago; I am in wonder not only of how she continues to fight through the pain and setbacks of old age; I am in true wonder of how she does all of this with such a good spirit and such a kind nature.

So here is something that I hope inspires a bit more wonder to carry you into a new year—Bailey is awake. Really awake. A lot. She is awake more often than she has been in months. And she is not just awake—she is awake and aware and attuned.  And here is what seems to have awoken her:

Biscuit and Bailey (sorry about the poor photo quality)

Two days before Christmas a visit from a special canine friend and her equally special humans elicited a level of excitement and joy that I had not seen in Bailey since celebrating her birthday last May. We were all in wonder of how, despite considerable labored breathing, Bailey bounced about and flashed that amazingly goofy grin of hers again and again. Her excitement continued throughout this visit and, after a brief rest, returned later that evening, and the next day, and the next week, and today.

Ok… her physical strength has not come back fully—this is a Christmas wonder, not a Christmas miracle. I now have to lift her entire weight (not some of it) to go up stairs, and I have to stabilize and support her (not just monitor her) going down. She continues to fall frequently (several times a day) and sometimes cannot find the strength or muscle control to get back up. And I’ll admit that the increase in her narcotic may have a part in her regained goofiness. But there is no questioning the increase in her energy level, in her wakefulness, in her presence, and in… well… her Baileyness. Barely Bailey is gone. Really Bailey is back. And Really Bailey really is a wonder dog.

Bailey is a wonder dog not because of how wonderful she is (although as any overly proud canine parent I again contend that she is the most wonderful dog ever). She is a wonder dog because of how much she fills us with wonder. She is a wonder dog because of how she inspires us to wonder. She is a wonder dog because she makes us more wonder full.

So, to my wonder dog I say one last time in 2013, but I am sure not for the last time… Good girl, Bailey. Well done, Bailey.