This weeks streams of consciousness prompt, the word friend, immediately conjured up an image of my old boxer dog, Bailey. Man’s best friend, my best friend. The biggest character, the warmest heart.
Right from when we brought him home, an eight week old puppy, skidding across our never before seen wooden floors on bambi legs, we knew he would never fail to make us laugh.
It wasn’t long until Bailey weighed almost as much as I did but that didn’t stop him being scared of puddles. When he was smaller I could carry him over them, when he was fully grown, we had to navigate our way around the tiniest pool of water, his ears flattened, visibly shaking at the thought of wet paws.
Bailey’s size belied his gentle nature. When the boys dressed up as policeman and ‘arrested’ him, he sat patiently, legs handcuffed together long after the boys had wandered off to play something else, until they remembered to go back and release him.
Bailey had a myriad medical problems. His body produced steroids, making him grow to giant like proportions, and his too short eight year old life was spent in and out of surgery. Nevertheless the vets remained one of his favourite places to be. We would walk through the front door and Bailey would jump up and down with joy, often catching his paws on the mesh door mat. He frequently ripped his claws off doing this, blood would spurt up the walls as he spun around in happy circles while the other patients looked on in horror. It wasn’t long before we were ushered quietly in through the back door and allocated our own waiting room.
Bailey loved everyone, but his family most of all, he never strayed far from our side. Once my son left the back gate open and it was a while before we realised that Bailey was missing. We flung on coats and shoes and opened the front door ready to scour the neighbourhood. Bailey was sat on the front door mat, head hung, rain dripping from ears. He sighed, shook his head and padded past us to his bed.
Our house was emptier, quieter, without him and not a single day goes past when I don’t miss him.
Written for Streams of Consciousness Saturday – prompt – friend. Write the first thing that comes to mind, no editing allowed.