Anniversary {Stop,Embrace}

Here it is, March 4th. Already.

A year ago, I drove to a house on the other side of Greeley and fell in love with 2 little black, brown and white fuzzes. I was only able to take one of them home, though: a short-haired pudgy one or a longer-haired skinnier one. I couldn't pick -- I made my mom do it. She picked the long-haired one. We brought her home, and set up a little makeshift play yard for her while I went back into town and got her some puppy food, a collar, and a toy, because she needed something that was hers. (And I didn't know how mom and dad's adult dog, Pacer, was going to handle the new puppy.) It took us a few days to decide on a name, but eventually Bailey stuck. Her middle name, Barkley, got added on later. Her nicknames have changed and added onto so many times: Fuzz Monster, Miss Miss, Little Miss, Bug, Baby Girl...and some have stuck around.

Those first few months were crazy. Housebreaking was interesting. She finally learned to ring the bells on the back of the door when she wants out, and she still remembers what newspaper on the floor means, but I honestly did not think we were ever going to learn not to potty just wherever we darn well wanted.

She has broken my heart so many times, though it has all been outside her control. Finding out that your six month old puppy has hip dysplasia, well, sucks. And there were her two (!) surgeries last year, the second one to correct a hernia from the first one. Plus, there was the screech that I never want to hear again: when she was scratching her ear with her bad hip, and whined in pain.

Fast forward to now. She's sleeping on her bed in front of the fridge as I blog this. She understands what I want her to do without me having to say it. Her intelligence continues to inspire and amaze me. I am grateful that she does not weigh what she was supposed to; in fact, her 40-lb weight is only half of what it is supposed to be. (Which is a blessing, considering her bad hips.)

Bringing her home when I did -- not working, still in school, struggling financially -- was probably not a smart thing to do, but I do not regret it. She helped me through some really emotional and stressful times. There is a bond between us, the brevity of which I do not fully fathom, and I do not think I ever can.

We still have a long way to travel down our road, and there are some things that we need to iron out in obedience classes. It will be interesting to see what happens when it's just her and I living together: no more grandma and grandpa to go wake up, no more Pacer to chew on all the time. (As it turned out, the two of them get along fabulously. There have only been two squabbles, and those all within the last month.) We'll come visit, to be sure, but the dynamic will be different. And then when her Daddy moves in, that will be interesting, too.

I read that Berners have a life expectancy of 6-7 years. I know that she's only half Mountain Bernese, but I keep that number in the back of my mind. I look back at the memories we've made in our first year together, look forward to the memories we will make in the coming years, and yet I know that no matter how many years we have together, it will never be enough.

{Stop Mourning the Sad Things to Come, Embrace the Gift of the Present}