Love Is a Dog Named Daisy, That Pulled At Your Heartstrings One Petal At a Time

For the last month or so, I noticed that Daisy, our Lab/Airdale had been losing weight.  She also had a cough for a while now.  We had taken her to the vet about the cough previously but was told that it was from hair in her throat since she licked her paws habitually. 

At first I thought it was worms, so I treated her for that.  She starting eating better for a few days, but then Friday night she didn't want dinner.  Nor would she eat breakfast the next morning.  I couldn't even temp her with a hot dog.  Off to the vet we went.  By the way, Banfield Hospital at PetSmart takes walk-ins and are very nice and courteous.

To make a long story short, and because the best story is her life, not her death; my beloved friend Daisy had her pain humanely eased yesterday evening.  Unbeknown to us, she had been quietly suffering through the end stages of lung cancer.  She was so much stronger than I, I think. 

As I write this in the very early morning hours of my 37th birthday, I don't bemoan the fact that this happened so close to what normally would be my day. My day, my way, everything I say day, is what I always liked to call it.  I think that this was God's way of showing me what a wonderful gift I had in her.

We (I should say I) got her from the Humane Society when she was 11 months old.  She had been there a few weeks already after her owners had surrendered her because she ate the siding on the house while she was tied up all day while they were at work.  Lovely reason huh?  Anyway, my son and I (the hubby didn't want to go, thinking he would want to take them all) had went up there to find a companion for Harpo, our at the time, 2 year old Kelpie. 

We had walked in to the shelter and I remember thinking that there was no way a person could really evaluate whether a dog was for them in this environment.  There were about twenty people milling around, looking at the dogs.  The dogs were all jumping up to the wire that separated them from us.  They were running in circles, some pacing and whining.  But then I looked to my left and there sat my delicate, little flower, Daisy.  Although at the time her name was Phoebe.  She was skinny as a rail, and you couldn't see her eyes because of the hair hanging over them.  She looked like a straggly Ewok. My friend Sonja reminded me yesterday that when she had first seen her she had asked, "What the heck is that?"  I just replied, "That's Daisy.  Isn't she awesome?"  Eventually we did start getting her groomed as you can see by her different hairdos.

She had sat in her kennel, as regal as a princess.  Just patiently waiting, with only her tail wagging; waiting for me to find her.  We took her home that day. 

I could not have asked for a better dog.  Harpo was great, but he was man's dog.  He obeyed the hubby more than I and he was just not snuggly.  He was always on the go.  I wanted a dog that would let me love on them and hug them, and kiss on them.  Daisy was mine, through and through.  She didn't chase the cats, she never peed in the house, and always obeyed every command like she was born with an instruction booklet on how to obey your master. 

Daisy truly showed her worth a few years ago when I was diagnosed with MS and she became my service dog.  Even in her middle-age, she did well by me when I needed her.  I relied on her for balance and strength.  Now I rely on a cane when I need it.  Not as cute, but it works.

I could not have asked for a better friend in a dog than her.  I miss her.  This morning I instinctively moved to step over her when getting up this morning, since she, without fail, slept next to my side of the bed every night.  I put down three bowls instead of two for breakfast, before I remembered.  I went to let the dogs outside and stood there waiting for her to come to the door before I remembered. 

Daisy will forever be the flower in my heart.  And was the best dog ever.