Daisy was three when we adopted one-year-old Thorbert. Daisy had been a very silly dog -- all giant feet and goofiness, ambling about like the tiny puppy she still apparently thought she was. With another dog in the household, though, Daisy suddenly grew up. She took on the role of the dominant dog, the responsible older sister. She showed Thorbert what was what and where was where, and they settled into an easy companionship. Except for the occasional tussle over a molecule of food (Thorbert's one passion), they got along very well. They were a solid pair. And they matched, with their black and white fur. Though neither dog enjoyed cuddling much, they would oftentimes rest near one another. In fact, an hour of Thorbert's last morning was spent lying on the floor near Daisy.
Late last night, Daisy woke me up by standing next to the bed and softly woofing. She didn't want to go out. She just kept looking around. Eventually she sat back down on the couch where she usually sleeps, but she left a space at the end where Thorbert would usually sit. It took her quite a while to settle back down. I'm sure she was looking for Thorbert.
So sad.
The last nap together.
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So sweet.
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