The Bite and The Cover Up

The Bite and The Cover Up

In the summer of 1998 life was very good. Bailey and I had moved back to Toronto. I had four months before starting my job at TD Securities and the plan was to split time equally between studying for the New York Bar Exam and having fun with my new best friend.

My study partner for the New York Bar Exam was Nolan Bederman. Nolan and I had done our undergraduate degrees together at the University of Western Ontario. Nolan and I had a lot in common. We both had just completed our law degree and MBA; we were both studying for the New York Bar; and we both had new puppies named after legendary sports figures. Nolan had a loveable Portuguese Waterdog named Satchel—named after the first ever Negro League player to be inducted into the Baseball Hall of Fame, Satchel Paige. In fact, it seemed the only thing that Nolan and I didn’t have in common was our grades. Nolan was consistently top of his class. He graduated first overall from the joint law-MBA program at University of Toronto—the Gold Medal Winner of his class. Me, on the other hand, once had lunch with the top student in my class—until he realized that he was at the wrong table.

That summer Bailey and Satchel became good friends. Some weekends we decided that the best study environment would be up at Nolan’s cottage on Lake Simcoe. At the cottage, we learned very little about the laws of New York State but nonetheless had a blast watching Bailey and Satchel spend morning til night running, wrestling and swimming.

I will never forget the first time Bailey saw Lake Simcoe. Nolan’s cottage was located on hill overlooking the lake. To get down to the lake, there was a series of stairs leading from one dock at the top of the hill all the way down to the dock on the water. As we approached the stairs Bailey saw the lake and his eyes changed. He couldn’t get down those stairs fast enough. About half way down the stairs Bailey decided it would be a waste of time to actually go down each of the steps. We were still about 15 feet above the water when Bailey leaped into the air headed for the water. My heart stopped—beneath us were a series of rocks and very shallow water. I rushed to the railing and looked over the edge. Below me Bailey was swimming in the warm water without a care in the world. Bailey looked back at me as if to say: “What’s your problem? I’m fine. C’mon down here.” Bailey was more than fine—he was in his element. Being free to swim and play with another dog was like setting his spirit free.

I will remember those days at Nolan’s cottage for the rest of my life. At night Bailey was so tired from playing all day that he literally passed out on my bed. Bailey would fall into such a deep sleep with his body stretched across the entire bed it was impossible to move him. He snored like an old man. No matter how hard I shook him to get him to move over to give me some room on the bed, he wouldn’t budge. By sunrise he was ready to do it all over again.

Back in the city, Nolan and I turned our attention to our studies. Neither of us wanted to fail the New York Bar Exam and there would be no second chances. Passing the exam was not a requirement for either of our jobs, so if we failed we just would never have the time to take a second crack at it.

One night Nolan and I were studying at his apartment on Heath Street when my father called. Dad and Bailey were playing tug-o-war with a rope when Bailey let go to get a better grip of the rope. Unfortunately that “better grip” included part Dad’s hand. Bailey’s bite caused my Dad’s hand to bleed and stitches would be required. I was worried that hospital would have to file a report on Bailey. To the best of my knowledge, every dog was entitled to “one free bite”. After that, any subsequent bites could result in disciplinary action up to and including an order to destroy the dog. My Dad felt terrible. He said that as soon as Bailey’s teeth touched his hand, his ears went back as if to say: “Oops. Sorry.”

None of us were going to allow any report to be filed on Bailey—and hence the cover up. Lucky for us, Nolan’s father was renowned plastic surgeon in Toronto. Even though it was about 9:00 pm at night, Dr. Bederman met my parents at his office. Dad was stitched up and Bailey would be in the clear.

Life is funny sometimes. Bailey bit my Dad and both of them felt horrible about it. From a young age, Bailey was taught to never put his teeth on anyone—even if he was just playing around. Bailey knew he was wrong and it showed all over his face. This regret made my Dad feel bad for him. And that’s the way it always was with Bailey—if he did something wrong, he would admit it even before he could be scolded. We are taught that no one is ever perfect—we all make mistakes. But Bailey’s ability to confess his wrongs actually made him perfect—and not just in my eyes.