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Bailey the Jack Russell Terrorist passed away today surrounded by his family, Carley Kranstuber, Adam Frump, his snuggle bunny Strawbeary, and Spencer the Sloth.

Bailey was born in sometime in spring 2006. Although originally cared for by John Fandrich who named him, became an only dog child to Kitty Ivan due to behavioral issues with other dogs. Though Bailey kept Kitty company while studying in law school (possibly due to her study being stocked with snacks), Bailey did not join Kitty as a living chattel until 2011.

Bailey emboldened the spirit of a cat, trying to climb (mostly unsuccessfully) where he shouldn’t, perfecting a “yawn meow” sound, his hatred for dogs but not cats, basking in sunlight, and keeping to himself. Some believe that this catlike mindset bestowed upon him the honorary benefit of the “nine lives luck” usually reserved for cats.

Bailey cashed in these figurative lucky cat coupons having survived several near fatal events including several dog attacks (some he instigated due to a misunderstanding of his own size and others he did not), many self guided tours including one of Victorian village during his recovery from teeth extraction where he was found by the Franklin County dog warden “grinning like a jack-o-lantern in a dirty pile of leaves while high on doggie pain killers”, a severe car totaling accident where I had to be taken by squad, paw lick poisoning from whatever they decided to treat the sidewalks with one winter partially due to his refusal to wear dog shoes, several falls down stairs where he bounced back without a scratch, and several bouts with pancreatitis due to being a garbage dog.

Bailey lived for cookies. Despite not being allowed to eat people food, he never gave up an opportunity to beg from Gay Street patio diners, family members at holidays, and once infamously stole a zebra cake from Robert the unhoused veteran’s lunchbox (though we later returned it).

He also sort of liked wearing bowties, peeing on as many things as his bladder and hip dexterity would allow, playing fetch with his tiny tennis ball down the long hallway, laying in the sun, his electric blanket which he operated himself, panting by a fire, never taking off his sweaters or coats, his fuzzy white blanket, his snuggle bunny bear “StrawBeary”, chasing geese (before they were all euthanized) on walks down by the Scioto River, strutting down Gay Street, rawhides when he still had the teeth for them, licking pillows who we believe he considered his children, and trying to eat garbage.

He was not only a good study companion, but kept office morale up by visiting my workplace frequently and kept long hours as emotional support staff when The Ivan Law Firm was in its infancy. He was terrible at paperwork and was a danger to anyone on the road since he got his driver’s license last year.

His dislikes were many but most notably, being touched (especially while there is food around), other dogs, anyone or anything coming too close to his face, being forced to walk longer than he wanted to or being told which way to walk, being bathed or groomed, having his teeth cleaned, having his nails trimmed, air horns, smoke detectors, squeaky toys, birds, vacuum cleaners, the COTA bus, wheelchairs, and rolling suitcases.

Sometime during his residence on Gay Street, he was unofficially named the Mayor of Gay Street. The unofficial title was a claim largely contested by Pickles the corgi and human neighbor David Berkley, neither of whom were direct residents of Gay Street.

Bailey’s only remaining unchecked bucket list item was catching and killing a rat though he came very close as a downtown dog. His close calls satisfied him enough but he further noted that the health concerns associated with the rat population were the real reason he stopped pursuing the goal, contemporaneous to the 2020 pandemic.

He is preceded in death by his early dog sisters Foxy Brown and Penny Lane, his toothless girlfriend Olive the neighbor dog (the only dog he ever willfully approached), and his hermit crab brothers Herman and Horatio who died in a murder-suicide incident.

He is survived by me, Spencer the Sloth, his aunts, uncles, grandpuppents, John Fandrich, his former roommates: Lynda Painter, Carley Kranstuber, and Adam Frump. Love you little buddy! Thank you to Kona’s Loving Paws for everything.


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