When Your Dog Meets Another Dog, and It Turns Out… They’re Brothers!

It all began with a cookie. An upset stomach. And God’s perfect timing. This is the story of how my dog, Bailey met his brother, Comet.

It had been a strange week and something was off. For the last seven days, Bailey my eight-month-old Cavapoo puppy had an upset stomach. His spirit was fine, but his poops were not. So, like any dutiful new pet owner, I turned to the internet, scouring articles for advice about his symptoms. Their prescription: boiled white rice and chicken. The consensus was it should pass on its own, but if it hadn’t resolved after a few days, consult a vet.

By day six, not only was I frantic, but also a puppy poop expert! I called the vet and learned that there were no available appointments until later in the week. “He can’t wait that long” I cried, “is there anything you can do?” The kindhearted receptionist took pity on me and hatched a plan. She was just about to confirm the next day’s appointments. If there were any cancellations, she would put Bailey first in line. I thanked her for her help and said a prayer. She called back, not even ten minutes later with great news! There had been a cancellation. Bailey would have an appointment the next morning at 9 AM.

Our vet was wonderful and gave Bailey a clean bill of health. “It was probably just something he picked up and ate while walking,” she explained. The diagnosis seems perfectly plausible. Bailey is a very curious puppy and the dirty streets of New York are like an all-you-can-eat buffet! I do my best to discourage him from eating scraps off the street, but Bailey is quick and there’s temptation on every block: some discarded chicken wings here; a crust of bread left for the pigeons over there; a random leaf blowing in the wind, are all enticing to my little guy. When he stumbles across one, it’s like he’s hit the jackpot! The vet suggests different leashes I can use to help combat the problem, and since then, I’ve been working on decreasing this habit through training. She prescribes probiotics for him (Who knew there were probiotics for dogs?) as well as antibiotics. She says to stick with the chicken and rice and things should be back to normal in no time.

I’m relieved, overjoyed, and the panic has faded. With my stress level back to normal I decide, “This calls for a cookie!” Not just any cookie, but an oversized, delicious cookie from a bakery not too far away. I hereby decree in that moment, that every visit to the vet will be immediately followed with a trip to the bakery! Makes perfect sense to me. On Bailey’s last trip to the vet we had done just that, and now it would become tradition. Remembering those buttery, delectable cookies, my mouth began to water with anticipation!

But how was I going to get a cookie with the dog? This isn’t an establishment you can enter with pets. On our previous trip to the vet, my mom was visiting; she made the purchase while I waited outside with Bailey. Perhaps I could slip someone the cash and ask a stranger to buy a cookie for me on his or her way in? Or I could call the bakery and ask them to bring it outside while I waited at the door? Although my tactic remained uncertain, my mission was clear: Get the cookie!

As I approached the bakery, I noticed a man walking his dog on the other side of the street. I thought the dog looked slightly bigger than Bailey, perhaps that was because of his long, shaggy, hair. Thinking the dog might be older, I mused, “That’s my future!” As I studied the man, willing him to look up, though he never did, a new thought occurred. “No, that’s not your future; that’s you right now. That dog looks exactly like Bailey!”

I decided to be friendly and cross the street. Cavapoos are a friendly, affable breed so I hoped this stranger would prove likewise. The first thing I said to this man was, “Hi! Your dog looks like my dog when he needs a haircut!”

Sh*t! That came out all wrong! That was not how I intended it to sound. I tried to rephrase and recover. “My dog was groomed three weeks ago!” Damnit! Did I rebound or now does it just sound like bragging? Luckily, the stranger seemed unfazed.

The dogs meet, romp and play as our conversation unfolds.

“Hi there, this is Comet,” he says.

“Hi, this is Bailey.”

“How old is your dog?” I ask. “9 months,” replies the stranger. “Oh my dog’s 8 months. It’s too bad. They almost look like they could be related.” We watch the dogs play and pounce, as we constantly unravel ourselves from their intertwining leashes.

He tells me this is strange. “My dog usually doesn’t play with other dogs this much. Comet prefers to be chased.” “Huh” I sigh, not sure of what to make of this.

Casually I inquire, “Did you get your dog from ‘suchandsuch’ website?” “Yeah, I did” remarks the stranger, as an awkward smile spills across his face. “Wow, me too.”

Curious, I asked, “Hey, your breeder’s name wasn’t ‘Mr. B’ was it?” He scrunched his brow and raised his head, pausing as though he were retracing his steps. “No” he said, slightly shaking his head, but then a moment later, catching himself. “Wait…I think it was!” “Mr. B” had given each dog in the litter a name that started with the letter “V.” There was: Valor, Viking, Victor, Violet and Vivian. The stranger pressed on. “What was your dog’s original name? My dog was Viking.”

“Oh my goodness. I looked at Viking! Bailey’s name was originally Valor…They’re puppies from the same litter!”

Of all the puppies in the world, what are the odds that we both had dogs from the same litter, who started their journey on a rural farm in Pennslyvania and now live forty blocks from one another in New York City? How perfect was God’s timing that so many small pieces had to fall into place for this meeting to happen?: Bailey getting sick; the vet giving us a last-minute appointment; the fact that we took a different route home so I could get a cookie; and this strange desire I had to cross the street and introduce myself to this similar looking dog and his owner.

As we watched the dogs playfully jump and bark with glee, I think it occurred to both of us that perhaps this was more than two dogs saying “hello.” I think the pups solved the puzzle before he and I ever did. Some bonds are unbreakable. I like to think that Bailey and Comet recognized each other as brothers and instinctively knew that this was family. This was home.