The Learned Miss Bailey

I have a friend, a delightful dog named Bailey who learns and retains information better than most people I know. This frantic bundle of inexhaustible energy, a chocolate Standard Poodle, has not only a people-pleasing personality, but an unusual capacity to learn. Bailey—named, in part, after the dessert liqueur—knows how to spell, lights up when the “Frontier Airlines” commercials (with the talking animals shown on the planes’ tails) comes on the television and has figured out the habits and idiosyncrasies of her “people”. Let me share with you a few of the virtues of my slightly under-sized, compact, 55 pound “lapdog”.

I’m sure most of you will insist your dog is the smartest ever, but can your dog understand the spelling of a word and its meaning? Because she had quickly figured out that the word “walk” means to go outside wearing her collar and leash to explore the neighborhood, my wife and I were very careful not to use the word “walk” unless one of us was prepared to take the excited, jumping dog outside no matter the weather or time of day. So we began to spell the word, W-A-L-K, whenever Bailey was in the room. That worked out well—for about a week. Amazingly, she had learned what it was and what it meant in a matter of days. Bailey 1, people 0. Break out the thesaurus! “I’m going to perambulate before dinner” or “Do you want to place one foot in front of the other repeatedly with me?” If she catches on to this, I’m going to check her coat for a zipper; must be some mini Einstein in there!

The act of watching television can be a mind-numbing activity that most people consider no more than background noise. Most dogs probably care even less about the large, flashing, noisy box in the corner. But as soon as the unmistakable jingle of the Frontier Airline ad comes on, even if she’s three rooms away with her head buried in her kibbles-n-bits, she becomes a canine Jackie Joyner Kearsey bounding into the room and begins “talking” to the television. These “flying” animals are her friends and she loves to stand up and greet them on our big screen television, leaving a soggy, dripping nose print in her wake. Any animal, especially dogs, horses and, for some reason, buffalo send her into a barking, bouncing orgasm of joy. (She doesn’t know what to make of cats, though…) We often have to change the channel to C-SPAN to calm her down. But that, too, has backfired somewhat as she has developed a strange attraction to Senator Arlen Spector. Maybe there’s a mini Chris Matthews in there.

But possibly the strangest behavior, the most human-like action and somewhat annoying trait is her ability to recognize and anticipate human behavior and personal habits, especially mine. A fine example is our nightly ritual of sitting downstairs in the family room. This dog can be splayed out on the floor, dead-to-the-world asleep, but I swear, as soon as the clock hits 10:30 pm—daddy’s bedtime—she appears beside my chair, knowing that I’ll let her outside for her last “business” opportunity of the day. As I rise from my recliner, she is suddenly at the top of the stairs waiting to go outside, her tail wagging like a conductor’s baton directing a performance of “Flight of the Bumblebee”. It happens every night, without fail. But what really makes me scratch my head in wonder is how she knows it’s the weekend. During the work week, as my wife and I get up to get ready to leave for our jobs, Bailey sleepily watches us from the top of our just-barely-big-enough-for-three, queen-sized bed. But on Saturday and Sunday mornings at 6:00 am, on the dot, I feel the cold, wet nose of the world’s most effective alarm clock nudging me in the face. And if I remain in bed, trying to ignore her, she whines and woofs at me until I get up to take her to Starbucks, my caffeine-addicted weekend ritual. OK, so maybe it’s a mini drill sergeant in that dog suit!

Now I know a lot of you will see a little of your dog in my lovable poodle, while others will sit mystified at the bizarre antics of one mans’ best friend. I understand that you believe you have the smartest, the cutest, the most adorable dog that is, was or ever will be, and you’re entitled to that opinion. I would have to respectfully disagree with that “misguided” notion, because I have the only dog in the world that seems to absorb information like a sponge. My “little girl” is a curly, sweet beauty of a doggie and is, without question, the most loving pet that I have ever had. There is no animal in the history of “petdom” that is more loved and appreciated than my Bailey. I don’t know where she got this quirky personality or the unusual intellectual capacity, but I’m sure glad they all came together in one, adorable embodiment of pure love. There must be an angel in there….