In 2016, I lost my beloved border collie mix, Merry Bailey. She rescued me from my darkest place. Rodger and I had separated and I knew if I didn’t get a dog, I would have depended on Diana more than a mom of a confused and frightened 10-year-old should.

I found her description on Petfinder with no photo. According to her foster mom, she was gentle, loving, and had black silky fur that felt like cotton candy. She was found roaming the farms of North Carolina with a too-small collar, a nursing pup (who was taller than she), and a tagalong dog named Minerva.

Diana and I picked her up at the first rest stop in North Carolina. She was nervous at first but she quickly sensed her purpose in our lives. She laid with us when we were sad or sick. She was gentle with small children, allowing them to pull at her fur to aid them in standing up. She herded her people so they were always within her reach.

Merry Bailey adapted to our lives as Tim and I merged households. We moved in with Chester* (a German Shepherd and Malamute mix who was another perfect dog). They were fast friends. We would walk them side-by-side—Merry Bailey searching for birds and rabbits darting side-to-side, lurching forward, and stopping short, while Chester looked straight ahead, stoically pacing himself.

When Merry got older she developed a disease that could have been deadly. She was about to undergo major surgery when our vet and surgeon suggested a less invasive option. It was a $200 2-ounce tube of ointment that had to be applied to her backend every night. Merry realized that we were saving her. Tim would put on his rubber glove and Merry would backup into position. We joked that this ritual was performed with Berry White playing softly in the background.

Merry Bailey had lived a long and happy life when she was diagnosed with a cancer in her intestines. She was 14. There was only palliative care we could provide her. We gave her medicine for her pain, fillet mignon, chicken, and Big Macs for her last meals, and all of the love we had. Friends and family came to give her tearful goodbyes. Merry Bailey knew it was time but we kept waiting for a sign. She started to have seizures. She was failing but we thought maybe one more day. Then on September 11, 2016 we knew. Her seizures were getting more severe and her big dark eyes were pleading for relief.

I had never grieved so hard for anything in my life. The hole she left was a great, dark chasm of emptiness. I needed so desperately to replicate the exact being that was Merry.

After about a month after Merry died, I started searching the internet for a border collie with black fur. I knew there was no replacement for my beloved dog, but I thought maybe I could find a dog almost as good.

Tim sat me down and explained that there will never be another Merry Bailey, but there will be other good dogs with their own, individual wonderful personalities, but we needed to wait a year before we start searching for that dog. I begrudgingly agreed.

Months after Merry Bailey died, I received a package from the wonderful woman who had fostered Merry, Nancy Prather. It was a Tibetan prayer flag.

It is believed that prayers of these flags become a permanent part of the universe as the images fade from exposure to the elements and the wind blows through them. It gives me solace to know that Merry, and our thoughts of her, are eternally part of the universe.

*Chester died at age 15 from an upper respiratory virus that his old body could not recover from. He too was a very special dog who took care of us all. I will tell you more about his devotion to our family and his mostly good nature another time.