Bailey — A Story of Love, Presence, and the Gift of a Life Well Lived, Bailey's Bucket list
Bailey — A Story of Love, Presence, and the Gift of a Life Well Lived, Bailey's Bucket list
By Lainey Bowler | Elaine Bowler Reiki
Some souls arrive quietly. They don't announce themselves with fanfare or demand your attention. They simply appear — often broken, often overlooked — and somehow, in the space between their need and your willingness to show up, something sacred begins.
Bailey was one of those souls.
And I believe, with everything in me, that he was guided to me. Not by chance. By Geisha.
A Thread That Began Before Bailey, Before there was Bailey, there was Geisha.
Geisha had been one of my own — a soul who had walked closely with me, who had shaped my understanding of animals, of presence, of love in its most unguarded form. She had passed the year before Bailey arrived in my life, and her absence was still something I carried — that particular kind of grief that doesn't announce itself loudly but sits quietly in the background of ordinary days.
In the period before Bailey came to me, when supporting my dog Geisha through her treatment, I had taken my first steps into Reiki. I had been initiated into Reiki Level One — a beginning, a opening, an initiation into energy work primarily as a personal practice and as something to share gently within the family circle. It was never intended to be clinical or formal at that stage. It was simply a new language I was learning to speak, a new way of paying attention to the energy of living beings and to my own inner landscape, sharing my reiki meditation practice with the foster animals in my care, helping to soothe, ease and decompress from their rescue experiences.
It was early days. I was a student in the truest sense.
And then I was asked to care for Bailey.
Looking back now, I don't believe that was coincidence. I believe Geisha had a hand in it — that she guided this battered, beautiful dog toward the home and the heart she already knew. It is the kind of thing that is impossible to prove and equally impossible to dismiss when you have experienced it. Some knowings live below the level of logic. This was one of them.
How It All Began
Bailey had a family who loved him. That part matters, and it deserves to be said first. His people weren't cruel or indifferent — they were simply without the financial means to cover the veterinary care their dog urgently needed. Faced with an impossible situation, they surrendered him to a local rescue rather than let him suffer without treatment. It was, in its own painful way, an act of love.
The rescue pulled him from a high-kill shelter. Without that intervention, Bailey's story would have ended before it had the chance to truly begin.
When I heard about him, something in me simply knew. I reached out and offered what I could — a forever home, consistent care, a calm and healing environment, and everything I had learned — through Reiki, through animal study, and through years of palliative care experience — to support him through whatever lay ahead.
What I didn't yet know was how complex that journey would become.
A Community Rallies — Bailey's Bucket List
Word spread quickly through the rescue community about Bailey's situation. His surgery was complex and expensive — the kind of cost that sits far beyond what most individuals can absorb alone. But the rescue community is a remarkable thing. People who had never met Bailey, who only knew him through a photo and a few lines of his story, began to donate.
Bailey's Bucket List was born — a fundraising campaign that invited supporters not only to contribute financially, but to dream up and fund joyful experiences for this deserving dog.
The response was breathtaking.
What unfolded over the weeks and months that followed was a love story told in the language of adventure — of fire trucks and Harleys, of roast chicken and ice cream, of sun-soaked afternoon naps and the kind of deep companionship that doesn't require words.
But before any of that could happen, there was healing to be done. And the road to that healing was far from straightforward.
Surgery, Complications, and the Care That Followed
Bailey's surgery was a significant undertaking. And it did not go smoothly.
Post-operative complications meant that the recovery ahead of us was more complex, more demanding, and more precarious than we had initially prepared for. This was not a straightforward rest-and-recover situation. Bailey needed attentive, knowledgeable, around-the-clock care — the kind of care that required reading his body accurately, responding quickly to changes, and maintaining an environment of absolute calm and safety for an animal whose system had already been pushed to its limits.
This is where my previous palliative care experience quietly stepped forward.
Long before Reiki, long before Bailey, I had walked alongside beings in the final and most vulnerable chapters of their lives. That experience had taught me things that no course can fully teach — how to read the subtle language of a body under stress, how to manage complex care needs with steadiness rather than panic, how to be present with suffering without being undone by it, and how to hold the space between life and its edges with both practicality and grace.
Those skills, accumulated through years of deeply human and deeply humbling work, became the foundation of Bailey's post-operative care. Medication management, wound monitoring, recognising the early signs of complications before they escalated, knowing when to call the vet and when to trust what I was seeing — none of that came from a textbook in that moment. It came from lived experience. From having been there before, in different circumstances, with different beings, but with the same fundamental requirement: show up fully, and do not look away.
Bailey's recovery was slow. There were hard days. But he was never alone in them.
Presence, the Let Animals Lead Method, and What Bailey Taught Me About Receiving
It was during Bailey's recovery that my understanding of energy work shifted in a way I hadn't anticipated.
As a Reiki Level One practitioner, my practice was still new and tender. Reiki One is primarily an initiation into self-healing and into sharing energy gently within one's personal and family circle — it is a beginning, not a mastery. I was learning to sit with the energy, to quiet my own mind enough to be a clear and steady channel, to offer rather than impose.
Around this time, I had also just learned of Kathleen Prasad, an animal reiki practitioner specialising in shelter animals. I had begun exploring the Let Animals Lead® method — a beautiful, animal-centred approach to offering Reiki that is rooted in meditation-based techniques and, most importantly, in allowing the animal to direct the entire interaction. The practitioner does not approach, does not place hands, does not direct the energy toward the animal with any agenda. Instead, you simply settle into a meditative state nearby, hold the space open, and wait. You let the animal lead.
For Bailey, this made all the difference.
Another Reiki practitioner had attempted to share energy with him, and Bailey had been clear in his response — he would not receive it. He moved away, shut down, turned his face. Animals do not pretend. They do not accept what doesn't feel right to them out of politeness. Bailey's refusal was information, and it was important.
But with the Let Animals Lead approach — with the quiet, unhurried, non-invasive quality of simply being present in a meditative state and allowing him to choose — Bailey responded differently. Profoundly differently.
He would settle. His breathing would slow and deepen. The tight, guarded quality that pain and stress had written into his body would soften, visibly, sometimes within just a few minutes of a session beginning. He would exhale — long, audible, releasing — in a way that said more than words ever could. He was not being worked on. He was choosing to receive. And that distinction, I now understand, is everything.
It was not my Level One certification that made those sessions meaningful. It was the willingness to be still. To not impose. To trust Bailey to know what he needed and to simply hold the space for him to access it.
Mindfulness was the thread running through all of it. Not as a concept or a practice pulled out for special occasions, but as a way of being present in each ordinary moment of his care. Noticing the quality of his breath. Reading his body language without projection. Responding to what was actually in front of me rather than what I assumed or feared. When Bailey needed rest, we rested. When he needed quiet, I offered quiet. When his body signalled that it had reached its limit, I honoured that — not reluctantly, but with genuine respect for the intelligence of his animal body.
Preserving his health meant understanding that rest is active medicine. I protected his sleep fiercely. I kept the environment calm and predictable, especially in the early weeks. I managed the timing and energy of visits carefully, ensuring that the love coming toward him didn't overwhelm the healing happening within him. Each day held a gentle rhythm — grounding, consistent, safe — that his recovering nervous system could anchor itself to.
Slowly, steadily, Bailey healed.
Tippy — The Companion He Didn't Know He Needed
Somewhere in the quiet of those recovery days, something beautiful was happening alongside the healing.
My dog Tippy had noticed Bailey.
What began as gentle curiosity became something far deeper. Tippy seemed to understand, in the wordless way animals understand each other, that Bailey needed softness. There was no boisterous play, no overwhelming energy, no demands. Tippy simply stayed close. He would settle near Bailey during quiet sessions — a warm, steady presence that asked for nothing. He would walk beside him on short, careful outings. He would sun-bake with him in the afternoon light, two dogs side by side, soaking in the warmth with the specific contentment that only animals seem to access fully.
They became inseparable.
In a short, intense window of time, Bailey and Tippy forged a bond that was palpable to everyone who witnessed it. Visitors would comment on it. It was in the way Tippy watched the door if Bailey was in another room, and in the way Bailey would immediately settle when Tippy lay down beside him. Their companionship was its own kind of healing — the deep, uncomplicated love of one animal for another, offered freely and without condition.
For a dog who had lost his family, endured shelter life, and faced the fear and vulnerability of a difficult surgery, having Tippy beside him was a gift I could never have planned or manufactured. It simply arrived, the way so much grace does — quietly, and exactly when it was needed.
The Adventures Begin
As Bailey's strength returned and his health stabilised, it was time to begin living his Bucket List in earnest. And what a list it became.
🚒 Firehouse Dog for a Day. Bailey rode in a fire truck, welcomed by crew members who gave him the full hero's welcome he absolutely deserved. He sat tall and proud — a dog who had no idea how remarkable he was, simply enjoying the moment with his whole heart.
🚔 K9 Officer for a Day. Bailey was sworn in (unofficially, but with great ceremony) as a K9 officer and rode shotgun in a police car. He surveyed his territory from the passenger seat with the dignity of a dog who had always known he was important.
📺 Weather Reporter. Bailey featured on a local news weather segment and charmed every single person in the studio. He was, of course, a natural.
📰 Newspaper Star. His story was picked up by local newspapers, and suddenly Bailey's Bucket List had an audience far beyond the rescue community. People who had never heard of him were reading about him over their morning coffee and reaching for their phones to donate.
🎉 The Pawty Party. A celebration worthy of the dog himself — complete with guests, love, and a level of adoration that Bailey received with characteristic grace and boundless enthusiasm.
🍦 Doggie Ice Cream, the Biggest Steak Ever, and a Happy Meal. Food was always a serious matter to Bailey. He approached every culinary adventure with the focus and commitment of a true connoisseur.
🌊 A Walk on the Beach. Salt air, sand underfoot, the sound of waves. Bailey walked slowly and deliberately, taking it all in. Some moments don't need embellishment — they are exactly what they are.
📸 Carla's Photo Shoot. The extraordinarily talented photographer Carla came and spent genuine time with Bailey — capturing him in all his warmth, his character, and his joy. She saw him. Truly saw him. And the images she created reflect that completely.
🏍️ Harley Ride. Bailey rode on a Harley Davidson. Of course he did. A dog of his stature could do no less.
🚗 Convertible Cruising. Wind in his ears, sun on his face, nothing but open road. Bailey lived his best life with the unself-conscious fullness that only dogs can truly achieve.
🍗 Roast Chicken and Visitors. People came from near and far simply to spend time with Bailey — to sit with him, to love him, to hand-feed him his absolute favourite food in the world. He received every visitor with warmth, and he received every piece of roast chicken with deep and solemn reverence.
Throughout every adventure, the same mindful care that had carried Bailey through his recovery continued to hold him. Before big outings, I would sit with him quietly — settling his nervous system, helping him arrive into the experience from a place of calm rather than overstimulation. After full and exciting days, we would return home to stillness, to quiet time that helped him integrate and rest deeply. The joy was real and it was wholehearted — but it was always balanced against the reality of his health, and the responsibility I held to protect it.
Adventure and rest. Presence and gentleness. Always both.
The Final Gift
There comes a time, in the life of every beloved animal, when love asks its most difficult thing of us.
We had known this day was coming. The surgery and the care had bought Bailey precious time — and he had used every single moment of it with breathtaking fullness. But his body had given what it could give. The kindest thing left to offer was peace.
On that last morning, we moved slowly and tenderly. There was no rushing. We stopped and got Bailey exactly what he deserved — a burger, fries, and an ice cream. He ate with the same wholehearted enthusiasm he had brought to every meal of his Bucket List, right up until the very end. Some things don't diminish. Love and appetite, when they are genuine, remain genuine.
At the veterinary clinic, we were not alone. Bailey's previous foster carers — the people who had loved him before he came to me, who had held him in his earlier chapter — came to say their goodbyes. They came to hold space. And in that room, surrounded by the humans who had formed his village, Bailey was loved by every presence in it.
I sat with him and settled into that meditative stillness — the same quality of presence I had offered him throughout his recovery, through every quiet morning and sun-drenched afternoon. Not to hold him here. Not with any agenda. Simply to be with him, steady and open, in the way he had always responded to and trusted. The energy held around him like a warm hand. You are safe. You are loved. You are free to go.
Bailey took one long, last sigh.
And then he was at the Rainbow Bridge. And I like to think Geisha was there to meet him.
Grace Upon Grace
Grief, when it comes after deep love, is simply love with nowhere left to go. In the weeks following Bailey's passing, it settled around us — around me, around Tippy, around everyone who had walked alongside him.
And then the gifts began to arrive.
Carla — the photographer who had seen Bailey so clearly through her lens — gifted us a stunning, large-format print of one of her images. It arrived like light in a dark room. Bailey, captured in his full and radiant self, now lives on our wall. And digital copies of every photo taken during the photo shoot on a usb drive, to keep.
And then a second gift: a gifted artist, moved by Bailey's story, created a beautiful oil painting of his smiling face and gave it to us. Just gave it. Because Bailey had touched something in them, as he touched something in everyone who met him.
We are held by the generosity of this community in a way that is difficult to articulate. Every donation that funded his surgery.
Every person who showed up to feed him roast chicken. Every foster carer who loved him before me. Every firefighter, police officer, news presenter, and journalist who said yes to a shelter dog with a bucket list. Carla, with her camera and her heart. The artist with their brush and their grace. The couple who drove hours to personally deliver a doggie Harley outfit, bandana, and graciously let Bailey sit on their Harley Davidson motorbike! The singer-song writer who wrote a song in his honour and dedicated it to us.
Bailey's uplifting story was featured in The Dodo animal rescue site, wenet viral, translated into many languages and inspired people all over the world to adopt animals from shelters!
Bailey arrived broken and afraid. He left as the most celebrated, loved, and joy-filled dog any of us had ever known.
What Bailey Taught Me
I began this journey as a brand new Reiki Level One practitioner — uncertain, learning, feeling my way forward one quiet session at a time. I did not arrive at Bailey's side with credentials or mastery. I arrived with presence, with palliative care experience that steadied my hands through his most complex days, with a newly discovered method that honoured his right to choose, and with a deep and unshakeable willingness to follow his lead.
Bailey taught me that healing is not always about cure. Sometimes it is about wholeness — about helping a being feel safe, seen, and connected, regardless of what the body is doing. He did not need to be cured to be healed. He needed to be met, exactly where he was — in his pain, in his joy, in his magnificent and irreplaceable self.
He taught me that animals know. They know who is safe. They know what feels right. They will turn away from what doesn't serve them and move toward what does — if we are quiet enough, and humble enough, to let them.
And he reminded me that we are never truly alone in this work. That Geisha, gone a year before Bailey arrived, had somehow placed this dog in my path. That the right souls find each other, across whatever distance separates them.
I am still learning. I will always be learning. But Bailey was one of my greatest teachers, and I carry him with me in everything I do.
Run free, sweet boy. Give Geisha our love. We will find you both at Rainbow Bridge. 🌈
Lainey Bowler is an Animal Reiki practitioner based in Ballarat, Victoria, specialising in supporting the wellbeing of rescued animals and their human companions. She holds a Certificate III in Animal Studies and specialised training in Equine and Animal Reiki.
To learn more or to book a session, head to our booking page or contact Lainey at [email protected] | 0425 778 292