The Promise and Our First Trip To Toronto

The Promise and Our First Trip To Toronto

Over the course of a lifetime we make several promises. Some promises are spoken out loud and some are implicit. I have always believed that when adopting an animal an implicit promise is made. For me, my promise was much more explicit and spoken aloud. Unfortunately I don’t know how many promises I have made in my life. Thankfully I don’t have a scoreboard in my mind of how many promises I have kept and how many I have broken. But upon reflection, I am particularly proud of having kept my promise to Bailey.

The sunrise on January 18, 1998 was simply grand. I got into my car and drove quietly out to Simi Valley. For most every trip in my car the radio would be playing either music or talk radio—acting as distraction from what might be a long drive in Los Angeles traffic. On this day, the radio was off. My soul was both quiet and excited.

I arrived at the home of Michael and Suzanne Thuotte and was once again ushered into the garage where I would welcome Bailey into my heart and home while his mother Belle would say goodbye to him forever. I remember finding the dog with the cat collar and picking him up. Instinctively I checked for the nail polish on one of his nails to be sure that the cat collar hadn’t been switched since I had picked him out. Sure enough, the nail polish was there. I quickly realized that checking for the nail polish was immaterial. Bailey was cradled in my arms once again giving me the exact same look that he did just a few weeks earlier. Looking back, I don’t even think the cat collar was necessary. Bailey was always mine. He was mine from the moment I held him in my arms. He was mine before he was even born. We were kindred spirits that were destined to be together.

The drive back to my apartment was filled with excitement and anticipation—mostly on my part. Bailey lay curled up on the front seat of my car without a care in the world. He didn’t bother to try and look around the inside of the car or explore his surroundings. He was exactly where he was supposed to be—with me.

That night I had prepared Bailey’s kennel with blankets to keep him comfortable. A good night’s sleep was essential because the next day Bailey and I were going home to Toronto for my birthday. However, despite the blankets, the kennel was a cold place for Bailey. He whined for the first hour until I could no longer take it—it broke my heart. I tried moving the blankets to the bathroom to give him more room than the kennel but that didn’t work either. On our first night together, I learned something about my new friend. He was a people dog. He didn’t want a big dog run or a spacious dog house—he wanted to be around people. That night I slept on the pull out couch and laid Bailey on the floor beside me where I could keep my hand on him. (The bed in my bedroom was too high off the ground to allow this type of constant contact). Bailey stretched out on the floor beside the pullout and gently faded off the sleep with my hand on his back. It was that night—in the waning hours of January 18, 1998 that I made my promise. As Bailey slowly drifted off to sleep I said: “Don’t worry Bails. I promise I will always take care of you and never let anything bad happen”. I knew they were much more than words. I knew that for the first time in my life I was in charge of another life. No matter what happened or who got in the way, I was going to keep my promise to Bailey.

I remember waking up on my birthday and looking at Bailey still sleeping beside my bed. I thought he was the best birthday present ever—and up until my daughter Elle was born seven years later on the night of January 18, 2005, he held that honor alone.

When we boarded the Air Canada flight back to Toronto Bailey was still small enough to fit in a pet carrier that could be brought in the passenger cabin. We were lucky enough to fly executive class and even luckier to have an empty seat next to us. But the rules with respect to pets in the passenger cabin were very strict. All pets must remain in the carrier and under the seat in front of you. But as the world would soon find out Bailey was the dog that had permission to break all the rules. I removed Bailey from his carrier and placed him on the empty seat next to me. Much like the drive back from Simi Valley, Bailey sat quietly in his seat, until he was spotted by the flight attendant. “Uh oh. Here we go.” I thought. The flight attendant leaned over to look at Bailey and said: “ What a gorgeous puppy. Do you mind if I take him to the cockpit to show the pilots?” (Something that would have been impossible in the post 9/11 era). “Sure,” I said. From that moment on (and as you will find out) whatever the traditional rules were for everyone else didn’t seem to apply to Bailey.

I arrived in Toronto and hopped in a cab. I had told my parents that I was arriving on a later flight so I could actually surprise them with Bailey at their home. When I got home I left Bailey at the side door and went into the house to find my parents sitting in the family room watching television. I told them I had taken an earlier flight so I could show them something. I asked them to wait where they were while I went back to the side door. As I left the room my father turned to my mother and said: “He got a dog”. Of course they knew.

Bailey was welcomed by my parents with love and joy. Looking back on our 13 years with Bailey I am forever grateful to my parents for welcoming him instantly as part of our family and treating him as if he was their own dog.

That first weekend, my parents hosted an engagement party for my first cousin Steven. During the entire party I am not sure that Bailey’s paws touched the ground even once. My mother insisted on carrying Bailey around the entire time. He was introduced to everyone at the party as the newest member of our family. I quickly realized that Bailey could never be owned by one single person. He was so charming and beautiful that many people staked some sort of claim to him—and this is the way it was to be for Bailey’s entire life. In my heart he was my dog. In the hearts and minds of many others he belonged to them as well.

The next morning we Bailey experienced snow for the very first time. As he stood outside he lifted his right front paw and gave it a good shake as if to say: “What the heck is this stuff?” But Bailey came to love the snow. The more snow the better. Bailey would jump in and out of the snow in our backyard as if he was in his own personal playground. He loved the snow but hated the rain. He loved the breeze but hated the wind.

Soon enough we would return to California but until we did Bailey loved all the attention he received and felt right at home in our family. These days its hard to imagine what we ever did before Bailey graced us with his presence. He made the time that existed before he arrived seem like it never happened.

Sometimes we make promises that we wish we never made. We often hope to be “let off the hook” on our promises. If there is one thing I can say about my promise to Bailey, its that I wish he was still here with me today so I could continue to keep my promise.