A Dog Named Baci

In search of an alliterative title, I named this blog SOLO IN SACRAMENTO. It is not completely correct. Yet somehow, SEMI-SOLO IN SACRAMENTO did not have the proper ring or literary panache. So I need to clarify. I did not come to Sacramento completely by myself. I moved here with my dog, Baci.

Every dog owner feels their pet is the best. Mine, truly exceptional. Let me tell you about my dog…

He has been a loving constant during the best of times:

-He is very friendly; always been so excited to greet my friends. Since he was a puppy, I have taken him everywhere and introduced him to everyone. He loves my daughters and has embraced each son in law and beautiful grandchild into the family.

-Together we continually walk, no matter what weather. My life has come to be framed by our excursions. We have defined our world as we meander through city streets, stroll beautiful parks, hike rugged mountain trails, and discover endless beaches. He even accompanied me to New York City for two magical summers in a row. I am still amazed how he just walked through the airport security screening, got on the plane, and out of the taxi. He just knew this was a place where I was at my happiest.

And he has been there through the worst of times:

-When I lost a job, a friend, or what I thought was a love, he sat silently yet knowingly beside me as I struggled with the humiliation, the uncertainty, and the shock of finding myself alone in my fears.

-When I moved from the glamorous big house to the humble abode, he was there. While many judged, he simply came along.

His perseverance and acceptance has given me a reassessment of what is important in life. He taught me that you can smile through the unbearable; that you must be fiercely loyal until your heart explodes with caring. 

There are so many stories but let me share with you this one in particular…

Just last year, it was one of those rare fog free summer days in San Francisco. I decided that Baci and I would walk what I called the scenic loop from the lovely homes of Seacliff, past the golf course and Legion of Honor, along a rugged coastal climb, to the ocean beach and back through city streets. It is a long, challenging path but filled with vistas that showcase the beauty of the city. This is one of our favorite routes. And always he accompanies, with a stride in his step and a tail that is constantly wagging.

At the onset of this particular adventure, we stopped a moment to admire the view, sitting on a bench. The Golden Gate Bridge and the Bay lay before us. Behind us the walkers were starting their hike as the path transitioned from wide pavement to narrow dirt. And just beyond, sat the 18^th hole of the golf course. Picture perfect. Baci was happy as he sat at my feet. I started to talk to him as I am apt to do. I bent down to pet him and praise him with a “good boy”.

Suddenly I heard a loud whoosh sound inside the back of my head, which I instantly grabbed.  Everything started to spin and the pain was intense. For some reason, I stood up and found myself looking around, frantically trying to understand what had just happened. At the opposite end of the bench, there was a jogger stretching. I called out to him, “Something has happened”. He just ignored me. “No, something has happened. I think I need help.” Still no response. And then I dropped my hands and blood started to pour from the back of my head. He ran right over and lay me on his lap. His clothes became saturated in red.

Soon people gathered to help; an ambulance was called. I remained conscious, in a silent daze but I could hear the discussion. I had been hit by a rogue golf ball from the course above! Now that brings new meaning to the term “a hole in one”.

Throughout, Baci stayed by me. I could feel his constant presence. I could hear him whimper. He sat atop me as I lay on that poor jogger. When the ambulance came they told me they could not take him along.

“You have to bring him. He always comes with me.” I started to get emotional.

“I am sorry, dogs are not allowed in the ambulance”.

“What will happen to him?”

“He will be taken to the pound” was the response.

This was worse than getting hit! I would not let them take him away, I would not let him go. Blood everywhere. It was quite a scene.

Then a young girl stepped forward and offered to take him. “He can stay with me. I promise he will be fine.” And with that she put my number into her phone and gave me her contact information.  “Stay in touch and don’t worry.”

And, suddenly, Baci seemed to know what he must do. He let her take his leash and stood by her. And with that I left my little friend with a complete stranger and the ambulance took off.

Kindly, my brother came to the hospital. “How did this happen? You can’t make this stuff up”, he proclaimed. I was very touched to see him.  Eight hours, a head CT (that thankfully came out fine) and many stitches later, I walked out of the emergency room. My brother drove me to retrieve my dog, albeit with strict instructions that Baci was not allowed to sit on the seat of his spotless Mercedes. (Yes, there is always humor to be found). So my little friend sat in my arms for the ride home. The next day, I sent the young girl the biggest bouquet of flowers though I regret that I never got to thank that jogger.

The point of this story?  No matter what comes your way, no matter how unexpected or frightening, there are good people, a humorous car story, and a very, very loyal, special dog.

Now back to Sacramento.  Just prior to coming, Baci was diagnosed with diabetes. Such a surprise! He would require twice daily insulin shots, a special diet, lots of fluids. Our lives definitely changed but we adapted into a daily routine. Then came the move. And just as suddenly as the diabetes set in, Baci’s health took a frightening turn. It was as if his body was shutting down. As his condition worsened, I found myself amongst half opened boxes and unknowing neighborhoods, desperately searching for a vet.

At first the prognosis was grim. I was told that if he did not improve, I would have to face putting him down. How can this be? I was overcome with grief and fear. I had to make sure that whatever decision I made was based on what was best for my dog, my friend. But I could not bear the thought of losing him. Every day was uncertain. Every night was interrupted. His frame was skeletal. I barely slept. It was tough. Very, very tough. And then slowly, very slowly, he got better.

Today, a few months later, he is now completely blind. He takes slower walks, he sleeps a lot. But he is still here. It’s almost as if he wants to make sure that I will continue on; that I will be O.K. here in Sacramento. And, just a few weeks ago, he turned 13 years old. It was a poignant milestone!

One of the nice features about my new place in Sacramento is that there is a large front lawn. Though it takes Baci awhile to navigate out the door and he always bumps into the fence and trees, he loves the feel of the grass on his feet. He excitedly sniffs and proceeds to roll and roll on his back. For a moment, it is as if he is back to being that young puppy, that gleeful dog, that adventurer. I find myself smiling as I watch him. I find myself admiring his undaunted resilience. I find myself so very, very grateful to have this precious reprieve.

There are moments when I do accept that these are probably going to be his, our last days. I am told that he will let me know when it is “time”. Baci and I have become symbiotic as we  shared this journey over the years, so I believe that there will be clarity and peace with the final decision.  And, as I always have, I will do what is best for my dear friend. Perhaps this will be the ultimate gifts we give each other.

So I guess the title of this blog was not too far off. For you see, I have come to understand that, in life, each of us is truly alone. You can be blessed with friends, family, and even  an exceptional dog but, ultimately, life is up you. And here I will be…Surviving, Solo in Sacramento!