In 2004, Michael Berg and his wife were struck with a devastating tragedy.  Their son was a self-employed civilian contractor working in Iraq when he was abducted and then murdered.  In a time of darkness, this family, who had never had the companionship of a dog before, was blessed with a rescue named Bailey.  While their son had once been doing his own service to the nation, the Berg family quickly learned how even the most helpless of creatures can do a world of service right here at home. 

The following is Michael’s story.  It touched us immensely here at BarkMagazine.com, and as we begin a new journey into 2009, we hope it will touch you as well.  ~ Heather Broeker, Editor

"Family Rescue Provides Comfort in the Face of Tragedy"

My wife and I never really had a pet before, at least not together. I had the pleasure of the companionship of a black dachshund named Bunny (because she was born on Easter Sunday and I was eight years old.) I loved that dog, but every time we went away and left her at the kennel during long trips or confined to the kitchen for short day trips, my heart bled for her. It got so that I could not enjoy being away from home if we left her, and, to be honest, bringing her with us usually didn't go too well either. With the exception of two fish, my wife had never, at the age of 59, had a pet before in her life.

Tragedy struck our family in the spring of 2004. We lost our precious son, just 26 years old, in Iraq. As you can imagine, this loss devastated us. We listened to and read the dreadful internet and news reporting of his death for months after. It tore at our family until we almost came apart. Bailey played a large part in keeping us whole.

In 2006, my wife started saying that she wanted to rescue a soft-coated wheaten terrier named Bailey who lived in New Jersey. I was very much against the idea. Remembering back to the heartaches associated with Bunny, I didn't think either of us needed more heartache in our lives at this time. I held fast when my wife went to visit Bailey. Upon returning she was more intent than ever. Next came my turn to meet Bailey, but my mind was made up to find some fault.

We made the two-hour trip together. Bailey was a large pile of soft cream-colored hair. She looked like a cross between a polar bear and a sheep, but no other animal ever had the saucer-sized eyes of Bailey nor the look of affection that shined through them. Still, I was resistant. Bailey's former companion sensed it and seemed reluctant to proceed with the adoption if I were not on board. At that moment I felt that I was in a lose-lose situation and quickly did my best to change her mind. I didn't realize it, but in order to do that, I had committed to taking Bailey. If I wanted to stop the adoption now was my chance, but I did not. The next week Bailey, our adopted dog, came to Delaware to live with us.

Bailey had some adjustment problems. One night our air conditioner came on for the first time, and it scared her. My wife finally relented and let her out of the crate that she lived in at her previous home. She came upstairs and slept on the floor next to my side of the bed. Her closeness felt good. We stored the crate away, and eventually donated it to an animal shelter.

My wife is checking out local dog sitters. I cannot stand the idea of making this poor dog who just lost the only humans she ever loved think she has lost us too. Maybe I could do this sometime in the future when she might love us. I feel really stupid, but over the past week and a half I have fallen in love with Bailey. She is just so sweet, and so sad that I feel I connect with her deep within.

I know there is a lot of stuff going on in my head that stems from the loss of our son. I see Bailey as a child. My wife refers to herself as Mommy to the dog and to me as Dad, both names our son used on us. She calls Bailey by other names we used on our son when he was very young. I find myself playfully teaming up with Bailey to get my way, that reflect old behaviors my son and I once practiced.

More than anything else, I feel like Bailey knows the loss we know, being ripped away from the people who loved her before. She does not seem to hold us responsible, just is grateful for whatever attention and affection we give her. I think, when I first saw my wife loving Bailey and saw that love reflected back to her, some of it bounced over to me. Before long, not only was I in love with Bailey, but also with my wife once more. I'm not saying the love had ever died, but perhaps it went to sleep. Bailey was like the prince who kissed Sleeping Beauty to awaken her again.

Although I still experience a separation anxiety whenever I leave Bailey, I'm very glad we rescued her. I've often thought that if there is any justice in the dog world, this dog, our dog, Bailey, deserves to be granted the status of a service dog. Then she'd be welcome at the best restaurants, at hotels, in airplanes and trains right there sitting between my wife and me where she belongs. Bailey has brought love back into my life where I never thought it would grow again. What better service can there be?

 (originally written by Michael Berg, May 29, 2006; revised on November & December, 2008)