My name is Margaret, but everyone calls me Maggie.
I'm 62 years old, divorced, and Bailey is basically my whole world since my kids moved away.
I rescued him three years ago from a shelter in Ohio. He'd been abandoned, scared of everything. It took months to earn his trust.
We healed each other, really. After my divorce, Bailey gave me a reason to get up every morning.
That's why what happened next felt like such a betrayal.
It started innocently enough. October 2023. I was doing our nightly tick check after his walk.
Found one embedded behind his ear. No big deal, right? I'd dealt with ticks before.
But when I went to remove it, my hand started shaking. Heart racing. That crawling feeling spreading up my arm.
By the time I got it off, I was sweating and nauseous.
The next morning, Bailey bounced over for his morning cuddles. And I couldn't do it.
Every time I reached out, my brain screamed "DANGER."
Three days later, I was checking him obsessively. Five times. Ten times. Twenty times a day.
My hands would shake. My skin would crawl. I'd see things that weren't there.
Then came the morning I completely lost it.
The next morning, Bailey bounced over for his morning cuddles. And I couldn't do it.
Every time I reached out, my brain screamed "DANGER."
Three days later, I was checking him obsessively. Five times. Ten times. Twenty times a day.
My hands would shake. My skin would crawl. I'd see things that weren't there.
Then came the morning I completely lost it.