Bailey Becomes A Dad

Bailey Becomes A Dad

Just two years before we were blessed with Elle, Bailey was five years old and still not neutered. He had never displayed any of the typical aggressive or dominant behavior of an unfixed male. Moreover, Bailey did not have exposure to female dogs that had not been fixed so there was never the worry of creating an unwanted litter. (Note: I can’t use the word “bitch” even in the proper context of a female dog—at least, not without giggling like a kid. It just sounds odd to me.)

Dr. Tung, Bailey’s vet, had warned me of the potential for an enlarged prostate (and even prostate cancer) if he wasn’t neutered. I remember thinking: “How could Dr. Tung get prostate cancer if Bailey isn’t neutered?” When Dr. Tung made it clear that it was Bailey who could be at risk (and not Dr. Tung himself) I took his words seriously. But before de-balling my buddy, I figured I would give him one shot at fatherhood.

That spring Bailey went away to a farm for a few days to mate with a black lab named Cleo. Although I missed him, I wanted him to do what I thought would be the most natural thing in the world—breed. However, there was one problem: Breeding didn’t come naturally to Bailey. Secretly, I worried that I had rubbed off on him and as a result his sexual prowess (or lack thereof) mimicked that of his owner. Reports back from the farm were that Bailey had the drive and desire to mount Cleo, just not the direction. Apparently, the first time Bailey tried to mount Cleo, it was done at the wrong end. I couldn’t help laughing while thinking of Bailey trying to mount Cleo from the front. Who knows, maybe I did rub off on him. Or maybe he knew exactly what he was doing and just considered it part of foreplay.

Eventually, Bailey figured out the front from the back and Cleo was pregnant. Two months later, Cleo gave birth to seven puppies—five black and two chocolate. A few weeks later, the puppies were brought to the Blue Jays offices to meet their dad. Bailey loved the puppies and was very careful not to accidentally step on them. While several experts have told me that Bailey would not have identified the pups as his own, I would like to believe that he knew. After all, Bailey was different than all other dogs—he had a sixth sense about him.

One of Bailey’s daughters, a chocolate puppy named Bear, went to my friend Donna McNicol. In the years that followed, Donna used to joke that Bear is the most costly present she had ever received. When Bear was just over a year old, her and Bailey met again on Dog Day at the Rogers Centre. The two dogs were immediately drawn to each other. As they ran up and down the hallway in the Blue Jays offices, Bear held Bailey’s jowl between her teeth. Normally Bailey would look to escape from the bite of another dog—but not from Bear. Bailey loved it. It reminded me of what the “experts” said and reaffirmed my conviction that Bailey knew that Bear (and her siblings) belonged to him.

Now that Bailey is gone, I often think of calling Donna to ask if I can see Bear. I have even picked up the phone but never dialed. The wound is still fresh for me—and it may always be fresh.