My name is Jennifer Collins.
Two months ago, I thought I was doing everything right.
I live in Toronto with my husband Mike and our 9-year-old Golden Retriever, Bailey.
Good food. Regular walks. Annual vet checkups. I was being a responsible dog mom.
Or so I thought...
That's why when Bailey stopped at the bottom of the stairs that Tuesday night, I almost brushed it off.
It happened so fast I nearly missed it.
We were heading upstairs for bed like we'd done a thousand times before.
But Bailey just... stopped.
She looked up at the stairs. Then looked at me. Then back at the stairs.
"Come on, girl," I called from halfway up. "Bedtime."
She didn't move.
I walked back down and tried to coax her.
Nothing.
That's when I saw it—the look in her eyes.
She wanted to come. But something was stopping her.
My stomach dropped.
"Mike!" I yelled. "Something's wrong with Bailey!"
We tried everything. Treats. Her favorite toy.
We even considered carrying her.
But deep down, I knew.
My Bailey couldn't climb our stairs anymore.
That night, she slept downstairs. Alone. For the first time in 9 years.
And I laid in bed staring at the ceiling, feeling like the worst dog mom in the world.