I threw my backpack and duffel bag to the ground as I took in the familiar noises, sights, and smells that made up my home. Nothing had changed. It seemed like everything that made up my life in Rockford was put on pause during my first six weeks at college. After it sunk in that I was home, I collapsed on the recliner and exhaled. Finally, I could just relax as I pushed the late nights, long hours of studying, and stress that consumed my life at college to the very back corner of my mind. I began to take in all of the Halloween decorations that had been placed on the giant television stand against the wall in the living room, as my eyes scanned the glittery pumpkins and stuffed ghosts a familiar sight caught my attention. Bailee was the only thing inscribed on the silver bone shaped tag that garnished the simple black collar. The collar rested next to a picture of our beloved, oversized Sheltie sitting in the backyard. A hundred different emotions and memories seeped back into my mind as I remembered the tri-color Sheltie that used to wear that collar around his neck.

“Faster! Faster, Bailee!” I shouted over the howling winds that whipped through my oversized winter clothes. Bailee hurled forward, attempting to pull the little plastic sled that my five-year-old self was sprawled out on. As soon as he began to build up speed Bailee suddenly stopped, laying down in the fluffy snow, almost in a screw this sort of way. I rolled off the sled accepting the fact that a forty-pound dog was not meant to pull a sled and made my way towards him. Bailee’s head was shifted up toward the sky, his eyes closed, taking in the bitter cold of the day as the wind whipped the snow onto his body. He loved the snow and bitterness of winter as his multiple layers of fur never let any cold near his skin. I finally reached Bailee after minutes of pushing through the knee-deep snow and sunk down next to him. Exasperated, I rested my head on his tan, furry belly. With my ear pressed against his fur time seemed to stop as the howling of the winds were drowned out. It was moments like this that Bailee was not only a dog but a companion that would never leave my side. He was there not only during my numerous adventures playing in the snow and exploring the neighborhood with my sister, Emilee, but also during any crisis that consumed my life.

I flew through the door of my room and sunk down on the floor. Tears streamed down my face and my whole body shook as the rush of emotions overtook me. Being cut from the twelve year old top level team at Rockford Volleyball Club was my first experience with rejection and I was not taking it well. As I sat with my face buried in my arms, I heard a faint scratching noise at the door. I looked up to see Bailee’s black nose peeking through the small door opening, attempting to enter. He noiselessly came in and sat down next to me. It was not long after I threw my head back into my arms and curled up in a ball that Bailee pushed his nose in the space between my arm and face nudging me to lift my head up. I finally raised my head and wrapped my arms around his body, grabbing onto the white fur that separated his soft brown head from his chocolate colored body. He rested his head on my shoulder and patiently waited for me to calm down. Bailee’s silent comfort did more for me than any words from my family ever could.

I grew up in a home where showing emotion was noted as a sign of weakness and crying only worsened a situation. My father exemplified our unspoken household rule, barely ever showing any emotion besides anger. Growing up I never understood why the little mistakes I made, like breaking a plate or losing the remote, seemed to flip a switch in my dad as he went ballistic, screaming and throwing anything within reach. I would cry unsure of how to handle the anxiety disorder that controlled my father’s emotions. It changed him from my tough dad who could protect me from anything to someone that I was terrified to be in an arm’s length of. However, my tears only enraged him more as he became angry at himself for once again making me cry. Over time, I learned that if I didn’t cry or show emotion while he threw things, slammed doors, and screamed in my face he would calm down a lot faster. It was because of this that Bailee was the only one who saw any tears that my sister and I shed. Bailee was there after every blow up that my father had ready to comfort either my sister or me, whoever happened to mess up that time. It was for this reason that I depended on Bailee so much. I relied on him to be the one stable thing in our household, never changing from his loving, comforting self, even when he was the victim of my father’s yelling. When my dad’s temper tantrums would fill the household Bailee remained by my side, enduring every sharp word with me.

Wherever Emilee and I went, Bailee was always close behind. As Shetland sheepdogs are natural herders, Bailee was always running circles around my sister and I making sure we stayed within his sights. When Emilee and I would be playing on the swing set Bailee would run continuous circles around it, barking at anyone who dare to disturb our play time. Even on rainy days when Emilee and I would sprawl out on the living room floor to play Clue and watch cartoons, Bailee would always be next to us. Bailee also took it upon himself to guard the entrance of my sister’s room and my room. Every night at around 9:30 Bailee could be found resting in the hallway, waiting for Emilee and me to get into bed so he could begin his watch. I never once had to worry about scary monsters, ghosts or intruders when I was sleeping because I was certain Bailee would make sure no harm came to me.

As a little kid, I thought Bailee was invincible. I used to lay with Bailee and imagine him prancing around my graduation party and I would make up scenarios of sneaking him into my college dorm room. He was the one constant thing in all of my childhood memories and I was certain he would be a part of my future. I did not know a life without him and I never really let the idea of a life without him enter my mind. Even when Bailee got sick the winter of my freshman year of high school the thought of him dying never even crossed my mind.

I came home from a volleyball tournament one afternoon to Bailee meekly greeting me at the door. As soon as he saw it was me he turned around and slowly made his way to the living room. I knew then that something was wrong, but it was not until my dad told me that Bailee had been getting sick all day that my fear was proven to be true. I was not worried though; I was certain that one trip to the vet would fix Bailee right up. However, after multiple visits to the vet’s office Bailee’s health had only declined. A few days after he first got sick a permanent IV stocked full of nutrients was put in Bailee’s paw to keep him healthy since he no longer had an appetite. With the IV Bailee seemed to go back to his normal self, but just as soon as false hope was placed in my mind the sickness completely over took his whole body. By the end of the week Bailee could not even stand up and walk outside without assistance. However, even with the multiple signs that suggested otherwise, I still fully believed that Bailee would recover.

No matter how much I hoped, wished, and prayed for Bailee’s recovery he never seemed to get better. The next Sunday I woke up at five for a volleyball tournament and quickly threw on my spandex and jersey wanting to go check on Bailee. My stomach was in knots, my heart was pounding, and I was already fighting back the tears as I made my way down the hallway. In the way, farthest back corner of my mind I knew what I would find. I turned on the kitchen light and found Bailee where we placed him the night before, on his dog bed in the middle of the living room. I knew he was gone the second I saw him and I instinctively made my way towards him. Even with tears blurring my vision, the pool of blood that had seeped into the carpet by his mouth was visible. It was through that pool of blood that Bailee’s illness was finally revealed, kidney failure. As I went to lay my hand down on his soft, still head I accidentally bumped his collar. The slight jingle that filled the eerily quiet room startled me and my eyes quickly shifted to his collar. Immediately my mind flashed back to the other times I heard that jingle: as he would greet me at door, as he would prance down the driveway to go on a walk, and as he would nudge my arm at dinner in hopes of getting a scrap or two. I knew that I would never again get to hear that familiar sound or see his expression change to pure joy when I walked through the door.

All of the happiness that Bailee brought to our home outweighed the amount of pain that came with losing him. Any of the stress or worry that consumed my family’s minds during the day could be completely melted away the minute Bailee would prance toward the door. He made our household better, taking it upon himself to make sure that his family was happy. He was the most accurate definition of a best friend, and without him as my comforter and protector growing up I would not be who I am today.

It was evident from a young age that my father’s issues were taking a toll on me; with every sharp word he spoke to me one more brick was added to the wall around me, keeping my feelings and emotions in and prohibiting others’ feelings from affecting me. The wall became so thick and tall that giving a simple hug to my mother or trying to comfort an upset friend was impossible. I had the mind-set that if others didn’t know that I cared or was affected by their words I could not be hurt. Therefore, I pushed away anyone who even tried to break down my wall, not willing to let others know how much they meant to me. Over the years many relationships, whether it be family members, friends, or boyfriends have been strained or broken because of my inability to show how I feel. The day Bailee died was the first time I let emotion seep through my concrete wall as I cried for the first time in years. It was through Bailee’s death that my wall began to deteriorate. It took years of happiness, tears, and frustration to get to the place where I am today. My wall has still not completely deteriorated, but I am at the point where I am able to admit that I have feelings and I make a valiant effort not to push people’s feelings away. I can whole heartedly say I owe it all to Bailee and the connection I had with him. Even though it has been almost four years since Bailee’s death, I still look up at his collar and am reminded of the comfort and love he showed me as I work to show that same love to the people I care about.

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