by Brenda Beaudette
They called her Pinky and she was at the city shelter. I found her one snowy day in the parking lot of my apartment when she came running up to me like she'd known me her whole life. I took her inside, dried her off and fed her scrambled eggs. She slept peacefully at the foot of my bed that night. In the morning, I called animal control, sure that someone was frantically looking for such a cute dog. No one was and they sent an officer to come and get her. She went happily with the lady officer, climbing into the front seat before the officer had to catch her and put her into the back. I asked the officer if someone could notify me if no one claimed her and she said she would.
I did not hear anything, so about a month later I stopped at the city shelter. As I looked in the cages at all the poor pathetic dogs, all of whom seemed to be begging for a home, I noticed her in the corner, barking at me and wagging her tail. They had named her "Pinky" and her cage was marked with a star, meaning she was on "Doggie Death Row." I took her home that night, stopping first at the Petshop to get a collar, leash, food, dish and lots of treats. I named her Bailey after my favorite little town in the Colorado mountains where we frequently went hiking. Bailey and I quickly became partners. She approved of my dates-if Bailey didn't like him, out he went. She would park herself next to me on the couch and listen intently as I told her my tales of woe. (I was a police officer, recently divorced, in danger of losing custody of my kids) Bailey was the only constant, stable being in my life.
I had a horse and Bailey and I would go riding on all of my days off. She would happily run behind DJ, veering off the trail to chase an occasional squirrel. She loved to jump in the mud puddles, so her full name was changed to Bailey Puddlejumper.
On April 11, 1998, I was riding DJ up the mountain with Bailey loyally following as she always did. It was a clear spring day and she was in an especially good mood, barking and chasing sticks. We were almost home when I saw Bailey run ahead, which was unusual for her. Then a mountain lion flew out and grabbed my dog. At first, I didn't understand what was happening. I jumped off of my horse and grabbed the reins and started hitting the mountain lion with them. Bailey was looking at me, her eyes were full of love. I have analyzed it a million times, and I believe that she didn't want me to fight for her. She was wagging her tail and looking at me. The mountain lion had a death grip on her throat. I knew I only had a second, if that. I grabbed a huge rock and thudded it against the cougars skull-he looked at me with cold eyes and blinked, unphased. I hit him again and dropped the rock. He tightened his grip around her neck and I saw Bailey's tongue and gums turn greyish-blue. Then her eyes were vacant and I knew she was dead. The mountain lion stood up and I realized how large he was. He drug Bailey off into the woods. I started crying and walking home. DJ, the coward, ran home as soon as I got off.
Two weeks later a cougar the same size attacked a man near where Bailey died. I believe that Bailey sensed danger and ran ahead to protect me. I saved her from dying at the shelter and she repaid me with her life.
People tell me when I cry-"she was only a dog." Yeah, she was, and she was my most loyal friend and she saved my life. The end of my bed is empty.