Bailey, labrador mix

Incredible journey
On a dark and stormy night, an old dog finds a new way back home to Mom
By Monica Collins, Globe Correspondent January 30, 2005

Anyone who has ever loved a dog imagines the animal's memory begins with human touch. We like to think domesticated dogs don't pine for birth families, nor do they yearn for the comforts of their first home because we humans provide all the home they need. Nicole Walsh believed this of her Bailey, the lean Labrador mix she got from her college roommate nine years ago when the dog was a puppy -- until the night last month when Bailey found his way back to his birthplace.

The story of Bailey is one of those weepy film features, except this true tale of love, loss, and reclamation happened in Hyde Park and Milton. The saga brings renewed respect for the profoundly mysterious call of the wild. What else don't we know about them, our pets?

The tale begins on Dec. 7 in Hyde Park's Fairmount Hill neighborhood on a weeknight notable for ferocious weather. All the witnesses remember it was raining cats -- and dogs.

After Thanksgiving, Nicole and Jay Walsh had just moved with toddler Emma and dog Bailey from West Roxbury to Hyde Park. They were in a tumble of resettlement chaos. Their phone hadn't been hooked up yet. Stuff was scattered everywhere. When nurse Nicole, 33, left for her usual 3 to 11 p.m. shift at Brigham & Women's Hospital, Jay, 34, who works in neighborhood services for Mayor Thomas M. Menino, minded the baby and the dog. As he hurriedly carried Emma into the house to get out of the rain, the dog ran out the open door and disappeared.

No big deal. Bailey usually comes when called. On this night, the dog didn't respond. He had vanished. Jay Walsh kept yelling for him through the rainstorm. When Nicole returned at midnight, she "wasn't overly nervous," she said, at first. She figured Bailey was in a new neighborhood and must have gotten lost. She got in her car and drove up and down Fairmount Hill looking for her dog. After awhile, she began to cry. "Oh my God, it was awful," she recalls. "I said to my husband, 'Jay, I fear the worst has happened.' " It was too late to call animal shelters. To complicate matters, Nicole had recently put a new collar on Bailey with no tags or identification. She and her husband finally went to bed without the dog who usually sleeps on the bed with them. She was desolate.

Across the city line in Milton, over a mile away, Maureen Little, 33, remembers hearing the scratching at her front door. Her dogs, Jesse and Molly, were roused by the sound. They usually bark at intrusions and are hostile to other dogs at first. On this fierce night, the animals did not seem disturbed. Maureen and her husband, Chris, 43, a Milton firefighter, peeked out at the forlorn soaked black dog on their front stoop. "We tried to tell him to go home and we went up to bed," she says. Later, they heard another scratch at the slider to the back porch. The stranger in the night wasn't going anywhere. "My husband went down and put one of our old dog beds outside on the porch [under an overhang] with some water and biscuits. We were hoping he would go home and we just felt bad for him because it was pouring buckets."

But Maureen couldn't sleep. Pregnant with her second child, she had undergone a disquieting medical test that day. About 2:30 in the morning, she heard more noises and went downstairs to find her dog Molly lying up against the slider where the black dog was just behind the glass. Molly usually sleeps in a bed upstairs. "She was lying by that door, which was very unusual," says Little. "And the dog was lying out back next to the door. I couldn't believe he was still there. It was very, very strange."

In the morning, the rain had stopped and everyone saw the light. Maureen went downstairs. Her husband had opened the slider, letting Molly into the backyard. "I came downstairs and saw the two dogs sitting out in the backyard. They were sitting side by side, facing toward the house. And I just knew. My husband said, 'Do you think that's Bailey?' And I said, 'Oh my God, that is Bailey.' I just knew because they were so peaceful and calm together. Molly is never like that with another dog immediately."

Bailey had been born under a neighbor's shed on the same street nine years ago. Purebred black Labrador retriever Jesse had been impregnated by a rogue mutt when she was 8½ months old. She produced eight puppies. Maureen gave the puppies away, but kept a golden-haired one, Molly. She allowed Nicole, her former roommate at Bridgewater State College, the pick of the litter. Nicole chose the black puppy that looked the most like its mother.

On recognizing their next of kin, the Littles invited Bailey into the house where, over biscuits and lots of reassuring sniffs, the prodigal dog continued his reunion with his sister, Molly, and his lookalike mother, Jesse. It had been at least five years since they had all been together briefly in Milton for a visit. Since then, the Littles had drastically renovated their house from a one-bedroom ranch into a four-bedroom Colonial.

Maureen Little dialed her friend's cellphone. She knew Nicole had recently moved nearby, but they had not had a chance to get together yet.

Across the Milton line in Hyde Park, it had been a bleak morning for Nicole and Jay Walsh. Baby Emma cried for Bailey. They called shelters with no result. And then Nicole's cellphone rang around 8:30. Her former roommate's number popped up on the screen. "I was bawling," she says. "When I saw Maureen's number come up, I couldn't answer it. I said to my husband, 'Jay, I know she has Bailey. We need to go get him.' " Maureen left a message and called again. "Nicole," she says, "was hysterical when she picked up the phone."

The Walshes went to retrieve their dog, but everybody knew this exuberant reunion left more questions than answers. How did Bailey find his way back to his mom and sister? In the pouring rain? In foreign territory? "It's just so remarkable," says Nicole, "that he picked up the scent. He lived in West Roxbury for most of his life. We had just moved to Hyde Park. I can't imagine he would ever remember."

"I'm just amazed at their innate sense of smell and belonging," says Maureen. "I never knew they would have such a connection to each other. My dogs did not have the same reaction to Bailey as they do to other dogs. There's definitely something between these dogs," she says. "There's definitely some kind of real feelings there."

According to renowned "dog whisperer" and author Elizabeth Marshall Thomas, canine familial feelings are very real and strong. "They wouldn't be able to love us if they didn't learn it from somewhere," says Thomas, speaking by phone from Texas. "You have to be able to love members of your own species before you can branch out and apply that to other species."

Thomas, an anthropologist who has written books about dog behavior, including the tender classic, "The Hidden Life Of Dogs," savors the saga of Bailey. "I think this story is of the best and it's very indicative because it shows you what dogs are going through." Thomas's basic premise in her writings holds that dogs experience truest happiness when surrounded by their own kind.

During our conversation, she recounts a reunion between a mother and daughter dog. "They took to each other immediately and they were very peaceful together," Thomas says. She describes that calm as spiritual -- "Oh, at last, you're here." It sounds like the same serenity seen by Maureen Little when she glimpsed Bailey and Molly sitting quietly together in her backyard.

Since that first journey in early December, Bailey has escaped the Walshes' house and run away three times to his birth family in Milton. The Walshes are somewhat embarrassed about their dog's escapades because they know they should keep better control over their pet. Bailey now wears a current city license on his collar. Still, the owners thought they knew their dog's habit of simply hanging around if he should get out of the house unleashed. Now they know better.

It's become routine for Nicole or Jay to call the Littles asking after their dog. Bailey has shown up there three times, hanging out with Mom and Sis. A couple of weeks ago, the dog almost made it a fourth time until Nicole got in her car and followed him en route. She discovered Bailey doesn't take the Mapquest straight shot, but has developed his own doggy back road strategy. The trip is 1.3 miles one way. "When I finally stopped and told him to get in the car, he looked at me like, 'Oh no, you're here,' " says Nicole.

She worries about her relationship with her dog. "Part of me feels so guilty. Am I not providing a good home for him? If I had the money, I would hire a dog psychologist."

Dr. Nicholas Dodman, director of the Tufts University Veterinary Center Animal Behavior Clinic, is a national authority on dog psychology. He has written books on the subject, including "The Dog Who Loved Too Much" and the recently published "If Only They Could Speak: Stories about Pets and Their People." Hearing the story of Bailey, scientist Dodman says, "It's important to realize different animals have different gifts. [Dogs] are almost savants in certain areas. We can only be in awe of their sense of smell."

Canines also have an acute ability "to make mental maps," says Dodman. "Whether it's [magnetic] or some other mechanism, a dog can find its way from point a to point b in a pea soup of fog if it really wants to." Obviously, Bailey had a powerful impetus. "When he came back for that visit [five years ago], it must have been deja vu all over again."

Dodman suggests there could have been a jarring "gap" when Bailey was taken from the litter that compels him to seek out his kin. "This dog may have had some experience that predisposed it to very fond memories," he says. His advice would be for the Walshes to "paddle the canoe in the same direction. The dog has indicated it likes to return to its family. So I would schedule regular visits, playtimes, and reunions. Maybe there should be a permanent reunion. If it went down to live in Milton, they might find it would be making its way back home."

Nicole Walsh doesn't like to hear Bailey might prefer living with his dog family, but she will soldier on, because her pet means the world to her. She and Maureen have agreed to give their animals regular playtimes together. "Is it a huge loss to dogs not to have their people? I don't know," says Thomas. "Obviously [dogs] have the ability to be happy and enjoy and to override the longings they have, as people do."

On a recent morning, Nicole Walsh loaded Emma and Bailey into the car for a canine confab in Milton. She followed Bailey's walking route. When she turned onto Metropolitan Avenue, the dog started panting with excitement. When they pulled into Maureen's house, Bailey bounded out of the car to greet Jesse and Molly. Tails wagging, with no barks exchanged, the dogs romped in the snow together. Later, they came inside for biscuits and bonhomie.

We humans sipped our coffee and expressed our amazement at the whole thing. The blood-relation rovers carried on comfortably, weaving into our midst for treats or pats, but circling back to each other for reassuring sniffs of noses or hindquarters: "Oh, at last, you're here."

Source:
http://www.boston.com/news/local/massachusetts/articles/2005/01/30/incredible_journey