The toughest part is going home.

For 4,217 days, returning to my house meant that I would be welcomed home by my best friend Bandit. She was a purebred English Setter, and I knew she would be standing on my front porch to greet me.

She was black and white, with black spots covering both of her eyes. It looked like she was wearing a bandit’s mask, and she was the most beautiful dog I ever laid my eyes on. She was also the smartest.

No matter the weather, that beautiful pooch would be outside waiting for me. She wouldn’t just wag her tail when I got home; she would wag her entire body. All four feet would shuffle as I walked through the gate.

She would jump up and down as I punched in the door code before zooming into and around the house. Nothing could beat the feeling of that welcome home. Nothing.

The rest of the world could hate me, but Bandit was there to offer unconditional love.

That welcome occurred almost every day for 11 years, 6 months and 16 days from May 5, 2012 until Nov. 20, 2023. Those were the best 4,217 days of my life.

I got Bandit from Nick, a friend and co-worker at The Montana Standard. Nick had her mother, and he sold all of Bandit’s siblings. He thought about keeping Bandit after a sale to someone else fell through, but he decided to send her home with me because he didn’t have the time to dedicate to two dogs.

Plus, he knew I was heartbroken by the recent death of my old pal Sadie about six weeks earlier.

Bandit was 14 weeks old when I took her home for the first time. It was late at night, and all three kids stayed up because they knew I was coming home with a surprise around midnight.

The girls, then 8 and 2, loved Bandit immediately. The boy, 4, was sad because she wasn’t a toy. He was so mad that he wanted to change the name given by Nick to Cat Poop.

Grady quickly learned to love Bandit, though, and the feeling was clearly immediately mutual. Bandit loved everyone in the family, but she was obsessed with me.

Before I took her home, Nick told me I would be blown away by how quickly Bandit would get attached to me. I grew up with dogs, and I had a special bond with each of them. So, I figured I already knew what Nick meant.

Boy, was I ever wrong.

The love from Bandit was like nothing I have ever seen before. She was my dog, and she followed me everywhere I went.

If I was sitting at my computer, Bandit was at my feet. If I was on the coach, she was lying nearby. If I was in the bathroom, so was Bandit.

When she was 4, my oldest daughter decided she wanted a lapdog. Her reasoning was that Bandit was too dedicated to me. She wanted a dog who had that much devotion to her.

So, in August of 2016, we took the family to Lagoon for a short vacation. Then we swung down to Sandy, Utah to pick up Boogie, a Shih Tzu/Lhasa Apso my daughter fell in love with over a picture on the internet.

We had to take Bandit to Logan’s Run outside Anaconda for five days as we made the trip. When I went to pick her up, the worker there told me that Bandit just moped around for five days.

Then, he opened a door to let Bandit into the room, an she started jumping all over me like Dino attacking Fred Flintstone after work. She must have thought that she would never see me again.

The guy in charge of the kennel told me he never saw a dog love his owner so much.

Bandit went running with me on the first morning after I took her home, and she loved it. We went running all the time. She helped me train for two marathons.

When we weren’t running, we were walking around Big Butte. She would often stray so far away from me that I would sit on top of the mountain and wait for her to catch up with me. 

Sometimes I would have to wait for an hour.

When Boogie started going with us for walks, though, Bandit started to stay close by. I think she was looking out for the little guy.

It is hard to imagine another dog putting up with Boogie, a classic little dog who thinks he runs the house. He would often chase Bandit to her bed so he could try to get all the attention.

But Bandit didn’t have a mean bone in her body. Instead of eating Boogie, she just put up with him.

One time Bandit accidentally caught a bird, and she immediately dropped it out of her mouth. She wanted to look at it, not kill it.

When she finally got face to face with her old nemesis — the cat across the street — she just looked, sniffed and wagged her tail as the cat arched its back and got ready to strike.

Bandit never even thought about striking.

I didn’t know it was going to be Bandit’s last walk when we went around Big Butte on Sunday, Nov. 19. Bandit was happy, and she seemed healthy. Sure, she wasn’t as fast as she used to be, and she needed help in and out of the cab of my truck, but she still chased birds and squirrels as we made our way around the mountain.

She was happy as we came home, and she slept in her bed right next to me like she always did.

The next morning, though, she couldn’t get up. She peed right where she was lying on the floor. 

We knew what that meant.

I didn’t want Bandit to suffer, so I carried her to the truck to take her to Highlands Veterinary Hospital. The two youngest kids were at school, and the oldest was at the University of Montana in Missoula.

We called our daughter to tell her we had to put Bandit down, and we had to do it right away. She cried and protested because she wanted to come home in time to say goodbye.

When Bandit heard Delaney’s voice, she stood up. It was almost as if she said she wanted to say goodbye, too.

So, we took Bandit home for a while. She tried to rally, but she couldn’t walk. I laid down on the floor for hours, petting her and talking to her. Boogie seemed to know something was up, and he let her have all the attention.

Delaney came home, and we took Bandit back down to the vet that afternoon. The rest of the family met us there, and we all got down on the floor with Bandit. She crossed the bridge with the family members she loved so much all petting her.

A few seconds before she fell asleep for the final time, Bandit reached her head up and licked me on the face. 

It was peaceful and beautiful. But it was also heartbreaking.

I’ve had to put dogs down before, and it always hurts. This time, though, it seems worse. Bandit is the best dog I have ever even heard of. I worked mostly form home all of her life, and I spent more time with her than any person. 

It is no stretch to say that I will miss her for the rest of my life.

People have told me that she will live forever in my heart, and that is true. I can feel her in there now. She is holding all the broken pieces together. 

The pain of losing her is so real. It is a pain that we sign up for when we welcome a dog into our lives. We know one day our heart will ache, but we know it will be worth it.

While I might be the saddest guy in town today, for 4,217 days Bandit made sure I was the happiest. So, like in “Maggie’s Song” by Chris Stapleton, I told Bandit she was a good dog, and I told her goodbye.

I also told her thank you for all the joy she brought to all of our lives.

I just hope I made her life half as happy as she always made me when she welcomed me home.

— Bill Foley can be reached at foles74@gmail.com. Follow him at twitter.com/Foles74. Listen to the ButteCast on Apple Podcasts, Spotify or wherever you find your favorite podcasts.