By Bayn Carlson
CarlsonB@friscoisd.org
Click Here to Hear Bayn's Song for Riley
It's been nearly three weeks, and I'm finally able to put my thoughts down on paper. October 23rd at 5:45, my life changed. I walked in the house after work to be greeted by five dogs, four of mine and one foster. Immediately I was worried because Riley was missing. As I walked further into the kitchen, I found him lying in his favorite corner. Riley had died earlier in the day. To say I was grief stricken would be an understatement. Riley was the light of my life and now he's gone.
A couple weeks earlier he was not acting his normal playful self. I took him to the vet and left him while they did a battery of tests. When I picked him up later in the day, the part time vet told me they found a massive infection in his abdomen. They were treating him with antibiotics and he should be fine. A few days later, his regular vet called to check on him. I told her he was doing great and bouncing all over the place. She then told me she was worried he might have a hematoma on his spleen and I needed to have an ultrasound done and he'd probably need surgery. She wanted to get him through the antibiotics first. Unfortunately, we never made it to the ultrasound appointment. The morning he died, Riley had eaten and was out chasing the squirrels (one of his favorite pastimes) in our backyard. I never had a clue I would walk in to find him the way I did. The only thing I'm happy about with his passing is that he was at home. He was obviously too weak to have survived surgery. I'm pretty sure Mack, who always slept beside him, laid with him all day. I just wish I would have been here with him.
Now, I'm not writing this as a downer or to make you cry, I've done plenty of that. There is a purpose to my ramblings. Many of you knew Riley. You may have never met him in person, but you knew him. Many of you prayed for him, sent me words of hope and encouragement, and helped search for him when he was missing in January and early February of 2006. Most of you know the story of how Riley was lost and found three weeks later by a ranch hand on a large cattle ranch just north of my house. However, as Paul Harvey used to say, this is the rest of the story. This is the story of Riley's spirit and what it means to me.
Several years ago, I lost my little Lhasa, Pugsley to cancer. At the same time I found out my other dog, Ben, was in kidney failure and would not live much longer. There was a lady who's children went to my school. She heard of my loss and suggested I check out a rescue group she worked with called Small Paws Rescue. I looked at the website and was put on the mailing list. One day in a newsletter there was a picture of several mill dogs SPR had just rescued. One dog stood out to me. He was covered in mats and had splayed feet from spending years walking on a wire cage. I don't even remember if he had a name, but he did soon. His name is Dudley and he was my first SPR dog.
It didn't take long when I knew Dudley needed a friend. Ben was fading and wasn't in to playing with this new white thing that came to our house. Another newsletter came and there was a little dog named Bedford. He was being fostered and living with Robin and Dale. Looking at the picture of him sitting politely in Robin's wingback chair, I couldn't resist and adopted him also. His name became Riley and as I said earlier, he became the light of my life.
Shortly after Riley coming to live here, I added another dog. I still remember the first time I met Robin and she handed me an adorable three pound ball of fuzz I named Miles. I also remember Robin calling the following day to tell me one of Miles' litter mates was in ICU with what we thought at the time was Distemper. What had I done? I thought for sure I'd killed Ben by bringing this puppy into the house. Fortunately, I'd joined a group that believes in the power of prayer and everything turned out fine. It was only a bad case of Kennel Cough. However, there were new rules put in place with SPR and that's when we started quarantining dogs when they come in. Yes, it costs money, but I would have never forgiven myself for bringing something into my home that could be deadly to everyone else.
For several years I rescued dogs from shelters, some in the nick of time. I helped with transport, and fostered so many dogs, I lost count. After a while and not being able to say no every time someone needed to be fostered, I needed a break. No more newsletters, no more fosters, I was done.
Then on January 26, 2006, I pulled in the driveway after work and knew something was wrong. When I ran into the house I found two dogs crying and Riley was missing. I searched most of the night and hung as many fliers in my neighborhood as I could. The next morning, after a sleepless night, I got up and started searching again. While looking for pictures of Riley to put on the posters, I pulled up the Small Paws site and e-mailed a couple of members in my area. I asked them to let Robin know Riley was missing. Within 30 minutes, she was on the phone. Even though it had been around three years since we last spoke, she talked to me like we had just talked the day before. The first thing she said was, "Don't worry, we'll find him." She didn't say, you'll find him she said we will.
Throughout the day Robin checked back with me and gave me a list of things to do. Small Paws volunteers were e-mailing me with encouragement and ideas. On Sunday, volunteer Andrea Horneado called and asked what she could do. I told her I was OK and was out hanging signs. "I'll be right there!" was the voice on the other end of the phone and she was for the remainder of the time Riley was missing. For three weeks people who I'd never met before handed out fliers, hung posters, searched, and cried with me. No one cared that I hadn't been involved in SPR for the past few years, they were there to help. Robin was in constant contact and was always there if I needed a shoulder. I learned quickly, this was a family, and this is what family does. Throughout this time, I found I was stronger than I ever knew. Finally the call came that Riley had been found. The first person I called when I had him safely in my arms was Andrea who put Robin on a conference call. I can still hear Robin screaming and cheering. Without this group and the grace of God I would have never had these last two and a half years with Riley. For that, I will forever be grateful.
Riley was home and I could have gone back to life as usual, but I couldn't. I had to give back. Throughout the time he was missing Andrea and I found and returned to their home somewhere around seven dogs. To this day I continue to help find peoples lost pets. I also share Riley's story.
Once again, I've lost count of the dogs that I've fostered. In fact there's one here right now that may actually be staying. I don't think my dogs or I could have gotten through this time without him. I've pulled dogs from the pound, made donations, and even scolded the Irving City Council. Trust me, they needed it.
Then there's the puppies. Honey was my first pregnant foster. She had seven of the most beautiful little white rats you'd ever laid eyes on. They turned into seven of the most adorable puppies anyone could want. Gracie had four absolutely beautiful and colorful puppies. Of course, I wanted to keep some of the puppies each time, but tearfully let them go to their forever homes. I know each one of them has become the light in someone else's life. Honey was my first failed foster. Even though she wasn't the dog Bonnie had designated for me, within a week of her being here, I knew she wasn't leaving and I've never regretted it.
With Honey, I was up to four dogs. There was no way I was going to go to five. Then Mack happened. Mack is a little eight pound Bichon I pulled from my local pound. When I picked him up after his quarantine at the vet's office, the receptionist said, "He'll never leave your house." I responded with, "There's no way I'm going to five." He turned our house upside down. He had everyone blitzing around the yard. Honey loved him and Mack and Riley were inseparable. To the day Riley died, they were next to each other. Of all my dogs, Mack has taken Riley's absence the hardest. Prosper, our latest foster, has helped though. He tries hard to keep Mack occupied.
When Vicki called me after Riley died she commented, "He was quite a character." Indeed he was. Riley's spirit continues to live on through me and through the work of this group. Riley's spirit lives through each one of you. You make it possible for Small Paws Rescue to help the throw away dogs, the ones that are sick, the ones that are healthy, the mill dogs, the owner turn ins, and the lost dogs. Whether you foster, transport, make blankets, pray, donate money or time, Riley's spirit lives through you. Anything you do is appreciated and needed. Small Paws was built through the work of volunteers. Because of those volunteers, volunteers like you, I was able to share my life with one very special dog. Thank you!
One last thing I wanted to add. Riley loved music and there's lots of music in my house. If I was playing the piano, which I don't do well, Riley was sitting on the bench next to me. If I was playing guitar, he was laying on my feet. Anytime I was recording, he was seated on the chair in my office. Every once in a while, there'll be an extra sound, Riley's tags, "tinging" in the background of the recording. When I recorded Moon River, he was laying in his chair and I sang this song to him. He was my Huckleberry Friend. I miss him terribly, but am so very grateful for the day I was introduced to a "little" rescue group on the internet.