Ode to Daisy

Herself writes today:

Daisy dog, I know you are getting old and that your time with us may be short. When the vet looked at your X-ray today and said, my, she has significant arthritis, I felt the End creep closer even as I stood there patting your head and telling you that there was nothing to fear. I hope we still have more time together, and I hope that we can make you happy in your waning days.

You have been part of our family for nine and a half years, and yet it seems like barely yesterday that we brought you home from the Humane Society. You were such a pathetic scrap of an animal, with that big black fur spot on your back that made you look vaguely like Snoopy. Everyone debated what to name you, but I won out. To me, you just looked like a Daisy. We nursed you to health, and you grew and grew, until what was once a four-and-a-half-pound puppy turned into a 65-pound giant mutt. You still think you are tiny, though, and try to sit in our laps. We let you.

You are such a cheerful dog. I love the way you smile at us when you see us at the door. I am endlessly entertained when you chase your tail. It warms my heart to see you sniffing all the fascinating scents when we hike in the desert, and running loose joyously in White Sands. You sleep upside down, with your gums flapping and all of your giant club-sized feet sticking up into the air.

You enjoy digging up rocks in the back yard, and I have been amazed more than once at the size of rock you are able to carry about. You are thrilled with dog toys that squeak and will fetch a ball, indoors or out, at any time. You are so very patient when we pat you, poke you, pester you, and balance things on your head. You faithfully look alertly out the door when we say, "Where's the Kitty" and never fail to glance up in the sky when we ask, "Where's the bird?" You investigate bugs.

It makes me laugh to think of the time when I came home to find the shreds of a bag of pretzels on the kitchen floor, and your water bowl empty and overturned. You drank what seemed like a whole gallon when I refilled it. There was also the time when the apples in the fruit bowl on the table kept disappearing, and I discovered that you had been quietly taking them one by one and eating them where you wouldn't be discovered. I won't even mention how many watermelon rinds you have stolen and carted off to the back yard. You do love fruit.

I should have played ball with you more often, taken you on more walks, and been more patient when you made a mess or chewed on the rocking chair. I am sorry. I am an imperfect human. I hope you forgive me.

You have given us one of the greatest of blessings: unconditional Dog-love. Thank you, my Daisy. No matter how many -- or how few -- days you have left with us, we will be grateful for each and every one.