Bankruptcy Dog
BY BUD STEPHEN TAYMAN, ESQ.
I ONCE HAD A SOFT COATED WHEATEN
TERRIER named Rocky. As in Balboa. At my wife’s insistence, Rocky came to work with us every day. At first, I was opposed to this. After all, wouldn’t that be unprofessional at best? Not to mention that clients frankly might not want to go to a law firm that was staffed in part by a dog. The foregoing notwithstanding, in simple words, I was flat wrong.
As is typical with many debtors, I had an appointment with a husband and wife whose home was scheduled for foreclosure in about two days, or less. We met and discussed various options, including bankruptcy. As always, the prospective clients were nervous. Their home was situated on land that had been in the family for many years. The husband had built the house. We met in the conference room. Rocky wandered in and out of that conference room, as dogs will do. Ultimately, he situated himself on the floor extremely close to the prospective clients. He lay there as still as a statue, taking long, measured breaths. He stayed there for the remainder of the consultation. Every now and then, the wife would look down at Rocky, then glance away. Rocky appeared to be minding his own business, totally unaware of the wife’s glances. That, of course, is not true. If he really was minding his own business, he would not have been in that conference room.
In any event, I was retained by the clients and we prepared an emergency bankruptcy filing. The petition would be filed that evening. During this phase of the meeting, Rocky stood up and more or less snuggled against the wife. The wife did not seem to mind. She began to pet Rocky. Slowly and steadily, her nervousness disappeared. No doubt, this was due to the clients’ decision to file for bankruptcy to save their home. But it was also due to Rocky. As the wife petted Rocky, you could just see her anxiety disappearing with each stroke. By the time the clients left, I realized, as usual, that I would be performing a valuable service by filing a bankruptcy petition, which would save their home. However, after noticing how calm the clients had become and how the wife had continued petting Rocky’s soft mane, it became abundantly clear to me that Rocky had performed a more valuable service than I had.
All I did was save their house. Rocky, on the other hand, saved their souls. So much for a defined view of professionalism after all. If what
on many occasions thereafter, is not professionalism, then I do not know what professionalism is. In the bankruptcy context, Rocky played an intricate role in not only calming the clients but also enabling them to actually think about their situation and how to handle it, with some of my advice thrown in.
Since that time, Rocky continuously and consistently endeared himself to many of the clients or visitors to my firm, even those clients or visitors who looked somewhat askance as they entered the office and saw a dog. To this day, I have not seen a client yet who wasn’t actually a little happier that Rocky was here with them during what are always difficult times.
Therefore, it is my belief that Rocky greatly aided in the administration of the bankruptcy system by his uncanny ability to enable the participants thereof to put things in perspective so as, perhaps, to more clearly be able to work toward resolving the issues with which they are confronted.
Rocky had been diagnosed with Addison’s Disease at three years old. I used to think that President Kennedy had been in good company in that regard. The maintenance man at our building used to tell me that the Addison’s would not take Rocky since he still had too much work left to do here. That man was right. But seven years later, after many clients and soothed nerves, Rocky was diagnosed with renal failure. That proved to be a battle we could not win.
On September 18, 2012, the final night of Rosh Hashanah, Rocky was taken home in a private sanctuary located at the VCA Emergency Clinic in Gaithersburg, Maryland. About an hour before, Rocky was surrounded by friends and our grandchildren who came to say goodbye.
To look at Rocky, you would never have known anything was wrong with him. He was so excited to be with everyone there. A few hours before that, I had called a person who had been our trusted obedience trainer for the last 10 years. I wanted to know more about whether or not we were making the right decision. Was there anything else we could do? She advised that it is better to be one day early than one day late. That was our answer.
At the sanctuary, it was me, my wife, our son, and Rocky. We stayed with him for quite a while before the doctor came in. But it was not long enough. He lay his head on my wife’s lap. It could not have been done in a more humane manner. As anyone who has been through this knows, to say that we were crushed is an understatement. We were comforted only by the fact that we knew that Rocky was no longer suffering. In a selfish way, which is most likely more akin to human behavior than to dog behavior, we were able to see how he had suffered for some time before we had made that difficult decision—we could not admit that then. Suddenly, it was clear. I once had a Soft Coated Wheaten Terrier named Rocky. As in Balboa.
A New Chance Develops
The story does not end here. We could not let it.
On October 1, 2012, a litter of Soft Coated Wheaten Terriers was born just outside of Rochester, New York. We were told that the litter was from a lineage of champions and had been very carefully bred. On December 2, 2012, we drove up there to get our new Wheaten. He was one of the runts of the litter, weighing 5.2 pounds. My wife named him “Our Beautiful Golden Boy Chancellor” or “Chance” for short. We had forgotten what it was like to have a puppy. He has put us through our tasks. What he has done, without doubt, has become an inalienable part of the family. I have reminded myself many times over the last eight months that he is a Wheaten and, therefore, he already is a great dog. We just have to get him there. However, if he weren’t as cute as he is, he would be dead. But that’s another story.
I thought Chance was not a good name, but again, I was flat wrong about that as well. Chance lives up to his name. In the first few months that we had him, I saw him represent a new chance and
All I did was save their house. Rocky, on the other hand, saved their souls.
a new hope (1) for a neighbor who recently had a miscarriage, (2) for another neighbor whose dog had died of diabetes almost contemporaneously with Rocky, (3) for a three year old boy whose dog had just been run over by a car, and, (4) for my cousin, who recently lost his two Wheatens and who was both Rocky’s vet and Chance’s vet. For my cousin and for us, Chance is the fourth Tayman Wheaten, and the smartest one of all.
Interestingly, Rocky and Chance are definitely two different dogs, although they are the same breed. Their respective temperaments are nearly opposite. But in terms of their ability to endear themselves to people in need, they are the same. I have seen Chance serve the same functions in the office as Rocky. And how he loves that conference room. And the people who go in there. Just like Rocky, he minds their business and helps them mind their business as well. When they need to be comforted, he has an inner sense that guides him to them for that purpose. And he is not even a year old. And when he is not doing that, he bounces off the walls. I assume that will stop one day. However, Wheatens are known to be puppies for life. So it may not. Either way, it will not matter to me.
I know that Chance will not follow in Rocky’s pawprints. He cannot do that. Nor will he ever have to do that. He will develop his own pawprints as he is now doing. But like Rocky, he will be a driving force of endearment to my potential clients and to any person who will have the good fortune to meet him. I have already seen this happening. After all, he is a Soft Coated Wheaten Terrier. And so, the story continues.1
Bud Stephen Tayman is the principal of the law firm of Bud Stephen Tayman, P.A., Germantown, Maryland. He received his undergraduate degree in Philosophy from the University of Florida in 1974 and his law degree from the Washington College of Law, American University, in 1983. Tayman’s practice focuses virtually exclusively on bankruptcy law.