Monday, September 1, 2008

What Did You Do to My Bed?

It used to be soft and white in the middle, and pink and fuzzy every where else. It was the perfect thing to dive into, to cuddle into. It's Bailey's bed.

When Bailey was going in for her first surgery to remove her breast cancer lumps, I busied myself by going to Target and buying everything a dog could possibly want and need. I bought Neosporin for her incision. I bought baby pain killers to help with her pain (as suggested by her vet). I bought soft biscuits. I bought comfy puppy jammies because she needed something to cover her so she wouldn't lick and infect her surgical site. And I bought the softest bed I could find.

See, when Bailey was a tiny puppy, my mom bought her a bed that's meant for 100 lb dogs. It had gotten bleached by the sun, so the pet shop offered it to her for $20. Bailey loved that damn bed. Its diameter alone was at least three times her length. She lept into it and played with it and lived it up. That is, until she learned how to unzip the bed. She unzipped its outer sheath and had a ball exhuming all the styrofoam-type pieces inside. It looked like Christmas with all the tufts strewn about. She had fun, but that was the end of her bed.

In subsequent years, I purchased a handful of beds for her, but none of them would do. They went unused and took up space. I did one hell of a job picking out a bed for after her surgery, though. Bailey found a new beloved bed. I placed her in there after her surgery, while she was still drugged up. She snoozed and snoozed. Afterwards, when we should try to limp around, she'd examine the room and her food and water, and then go back to her bed. It's been her place ever since.

It's three years later now. Her white and pink bed is now brown and kind of pink. It has dog hair all over it. There are mysterious stains that are likely from past chew sticks. I'm sure there's Neosporin smears in there, as well as streaks of food she was able to beg from the table.

In short, her bed needed a washing. I took on the task today by filling the sink with some laundry soap and hand washing it. Then, when I was semi-satisfied that the bed was clean, I took an armful of towels and tossed the whole kit and caboodle in the dryer. During the entire process, Bailey sat at the entrance of the kitchen, as still as a statue, watching my every move. I felt so bad for her, but my words could do little reassurance. After a while, it struck me as a bit on the funny side.

After hauling the bed and towels downstairs to the dryer via the laundry basket, Bailey decided to spend a good five minutes examining the basket, searching it for clues to the whereabouts of her bed. My heart goes out to her. I know, though, with as much as she loves to roll and play with dryer sheets, she'll be thrilled with the new smell of her bed.

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