Sandy “Girl” Bairaktaris, 13, Died; Best Dog Ever
Written by Jaime Bairaktaris, Executive Editor
Sandy “Girl” Bairaktaris, a rescued English Labrador Retriever mix, formerly of Redding, died at home in Westport Monday, July 11th, surrounded by her family and friends after a short & courageous battle with old age. She was (about) 13 years old in real time, 91 in dog-years, and forever three years old at heart.
Sandy was born in the South, given a name that didn’t fit, and shipped north by rescuers in Spring of 2009. My brothers and I saw her picture on the adoption website and convinced our mom to go “look” at her litter. “Not happening” was what we were told as we drove to the kennel; I had allergies, we were busy 11 year old triplet boys, and our dad didn’t like dogs. It wouldn’t work out.
That made it even more special as she slept on our leather car seat just an hour later as we drove home. She was plucked from the concrete floor of that dog kennel in New York - it would be the last time she would ever sleep on a surface that did not involve her universal luxuries: plush throw blankets, supportive pillows, memory foam mattresses, 4 different toys within reach, and most likely someone else’s spot in a bed. On particularly cold nights, she enjoyed a nice blanket over the top of her for good measure.
But with as much love and attention as she was given, as soon as a door was left open she would sprint into the woods like an abused kidnap victim. Even after her many lively adventures around the property, and sometimes our neighbors’, she never spent a night lost and away from home in her 13 years. Somehow we always caught up to her, or she would just come prancing into the house like the spoiled brat she was.
Sandy loved our childhood house in Redding, right on the corner of Cross Highway and Newtown Turnpike. We quickly trained her to walk on the leash with us to baseball games at the Boys & Girls Club so we could show her off to our friends. I quickly realized how important she was. No middle school boy is more popular than one who’s holding a puppy, so she was walked often - as much as possible - to every event imaginable. The best wingman ever.
Public outings became hard when she was in her teenage years and would eat every piece of food within jumping distance. Like a small fluffy shark, she would lunge with the power of 1,000 men and inhale whatever could be obtained without making as much as a sound. This was realized one night at a local concert when a small toddler holding a hamburger wandered within striking distance of our picnic blanket. Though she appeared sleeping to us, she managed to grab the burger from his hands and go right back to sleep on the blanket without a soul knowing - except the terrified toddler. (Yes, we bought him a new one. No, we did not pay for his therapy. I’m sorry, wherever you might be).
Adopting Sandy had benefits that surpassed the constant need to throw away urine-soaked carpets, to sit on couches that had crater-sized holes and missing stuffing, and the constant quote “we have to get home to let the dog out.” Even if she didn’t initially admit it, our mom enjoyed having another girl in the house. She would retrieve Sandy when we were being too “rough” with her, and spent hours with Sandy on her lap unless it was time for bed - when we so desperately attempted to crate train her. All of that hard work was cancelled after one week of us being away at sleepaway camp, when Sandy was allowed to sleep on the bed and never returned to the crate again for the rest of her life.
The best part of getting a puppy is going home to a puppy. One afternoon after school, we ran inside like every kid imagines when they come home to their new puppy - but couldn’t find her anywhere. Knowing our dog had been so special, we assumed that she must have been stolen from the house while we were out. 10 minutes later our dad pulled in the driveway, with the dog’s small ears poking up from the window of the red pickup truck.
The man who didn’t like dogs, mind you.
She moved with us to Westport two years later. She adjusted well to the coastal life and enjoyed her walks to Compo and along the shoreline. She became a fixture at Winslow Dog Park with my brother Joey, who truly claimed Sandy as the only sibling he’s only really wanted. So much so that Joey went away to university, he tried to sneak her into his housing with his roommates one semester. After several hours of whining and barking and his roommates not being able to sleep, she was driven the 2 hours back to Connecticut at two in the morning and was immediately comforted by the memory foam and soft blankets of her spot in bed that she apparently missed.
As with any childhood dog, there are so many stories in between these short moments. She helped us find friends, she helped us explore a new town with confidence, she remained a constant through parental divorce and a new school all of the battles of middle school and high school, and she was the best example of what a childhood dog should be. She came at the perfect time for three 11 year old boys.
This may all seem sweet, but there were many days early on when I couldn’t stand her: my skin swelled up if she licked me, she whined all night long during her crate training, the puppy biting was leaving us scarred, she never learned more than “sit” - and even that was a stretch some days - and food missing from the countertops got old quickly. But I’d do a lot to get just one of those sleepless nights, itchy hives, or puppy bites back just one more time.
Sandy will be remembered as an active member of the Winslow Park community, or simply as the yellow lab who smiled at you from her perch in the back of a black suburban whizzing by, and most importantly as the best dog there ever was - yes, even better than yours.
She lived out her final hours like a college kid: high as a kite while eating a gourmet hamburger, hotdog, and fries from Match Burger Lobster alongside her closest Winslow Dog Park friends and her family from the comfort of her bed on the living room floor. The solace we can find in her passing is knowing that she did so with dignity, without pain, with a belly filled with expensive food, on top of her favorite blanket, surrounded by the people who loved her. A blessing.
With thanks:
Thanks to Dr. Sally Kniffin at Redding Ridge Vet for caring for Sandy her entire life, especially on the days we’d walk Sandy to her office as middle schoolers, usually unannounced, and she’d help us with whatever stupid question we could come up with. Sally’s office and home was the only place Sandy ever slept comfortably besides our own - and thankfully - Dr. Kniffin made sure she rarely needed to. When old age caught up with Sandy a few weeks ago, Sally called every single day to check on her. Sandy and our family have never been alone in what can be hard days of raising a dog.
I also want to thank all of Sandy’s friends at Winslow Dog Park - all of whom I never met, as my brother and Sandy treasured their park time together. However most importantly to my brother’s (and Sandy’s) friend George for helping Sandy and loving Sandy just as we did. On several occasions I’d find George in our house sitting with Sandy just so she had company, something I can’t be more grateful for in these past few weeks. He also delivered her the Match burger, fries, and hot dog as her last meal - so he obviously knew her, and her expensive taste, very well - I’m sure she enjoyed every single bite.
A thank you to PawSafe Animal Rescue who rescued Sandy at just a couple of weeks old and gave three middle school boys a single way to bond while checking their website for puppies every day - and ultimately allowed us to have the best dog ever for 13 good years.
A final thanks to Final Journey veterinary services, lead by Dr. Kristen Klie, who allowed Sandy to pass in her favorite spot in our home yesterday. My family members who were home were comforted by their kind, compassionate, and caring team in what will always be one of the hardest moment of any dog owner’s life.
Sandy was my longest running photo subject while experimenting with my photography. As she grew up, my pictures did, too. She and I came a long way from selfies on our computer.