Stuff

Well, this is a first. A first in the last 31 years at least. No husband, no children, no grandchildren, no dog. I was all alone once in the 70’s when my parents went to Europe, but that’s the last time I remember. It wasn’t such a good memory either; I hit a young boy on a bike coming out of an intersection at dusk (he was okay, but his bike was a mess) and I had to break a basement window when I locked myself out of the house. The year was 1978 to be exact; blacks received the priesthood during that two weeks also, and I thought for sure the 2nd Coming was right around the corner.

This instance has not been quite that eventful. I’m just alone, that’s all. Potts is in Southern Utah helping a group of photographers, Emily took AJ with her back to Boise, and my dog is in heaven romping around with Muffin. 

I’ve spent the week going through boxes of paraphernalia -- gazillions of old concert programs, photos, letters, bits and pieces of life. I figure, if it’s not in a scrapbook, or recorded in my journal, it isn’t worth keeping.  It will only leave my children wondering, “What in the world am I supposed to do with this?!” when I am no longer around. It’s hard for me to trash it; like I said, it’s my life in these boxes. 

Which brings me to another thought. In this day of emails instead of letters, Facebook instead of visiting face to face, “posting” instead of printing photos, blogging instead of journal-writing, will we have anything to “keep” in the future?  Anything that will keep us alive to our posterity? 

... Just a thought.

Remembering Bailey

September 1996 - May 29, 2012

We found her in October 1996 at the Utah Humane Society. They told us she was a Cocker Spaniel Poodle mix, -- a Cocka-Poo. We're not certain of her actual birthday, but know that she had just been weaned. She was so cute and tiny. We adopted her upon sight, October 26. We couldn't walk away without her... Who could?

She grew a little bigger than we expected and had VERY long legs. I wish I could remember the year, but she wasn't very old when she began developing hip dysplasia which necessitated having the ball of her hip removed. With time, it was replaced with scar tissue and she was able to walk and run without it. The only indicator that anything had ever been amiss was when she sat, one hip would fold in.

Bailey wasn't the only dog we had; we had adopted Muffin when we lived in Burley, a poodle terrier mix. Bailey knew who was "the queen" and waited patiently for Muffin to finish a meal before enjoying one herself. I think she valued her life more than her dinner as Muffin would guard the dog bowl, turning and growling if Bailey came too near. She experienced some separation anxiety and had trouble eating at all when Muffin was put to sleep at 17 years. She really missed her counterpart.

Bailey was pretty adventurous and lived for the day the front door was accidentally left open. She would tear out and down the street as fast as her legs would take her. We would go searching for her by car and foot. She would tease us a little when we found her, but finally resign to "game over" and come to us when called -- especially when coaxed with a dog treat.

Bailey loved walks and tried with all her might to get ahead, choking on the leash and coughing and snorting. It was rather embarrassing. We tried to teach her to "heal" but she was just too excited to be out of the house.

Though a bit jealous at times, she was sweet, patient, and gentle with the grandkids. She sensed our love for them and respected the fact that they meant the world to us.

Bailey LOVED bread! It didn't matter whether it was homemade or store-bought. Even when she was asleep upstairs, when she was completely deaf, she still knew when I was opening the plastic bread bag. I could never figure that one out.

I miss you Bailey. Every time I come into the house, I expect your howl of joy and wagging tail. You were a loyal and sweet companion. I hope that Muffin and our angels in heaven are taking good care of you.