A love letter to my Daisy Dog

To my Baby Daisy:

God, how Penny and I miss you. You were a survivor from the day you were born. Half your litter mates died and your mother, Sally, was depressed and her milk dried up. Your grandmother, also named Daisy, had recently given birth to a different litter and she stepped in to feed the three remaining puppies. When I went to pick you up from the farm, you were crawling around under her begging for more milk.You were the chunkiest of the bunch.  I named you after her so you could also be strong.

Over the next 14 years and seven months, you were mostly healthy. You did have some challenges in your later years that would have probably killed other dogs. You had a couple of nasty battles with pancreatitis. In 2019, I took you to the emergency vet with every intention of saying goodbye that day. You'd lost your ability to walk. Turns out, it was vestibular disease. The vet gave you a 50-50 shot at recovery. A little more than 24 hours later, you started teaching yourself to walk again. For the rest of your life, your head was slightly tilted like you were constantly interested in everything. Most of the time, you weren't. In April, you were diagnosed with laryngeal paralysis. Your breathing was often very labored and your back legs were very weak. You fell a lot. Every night, I’d have to practically carry you up the stairs. But you persevered. You always persevered.

Until you couldn’t anymore. A little before noon on July 25, I did one of the hardest things I've ever done while sobbing into your fur at a vet’s office at Myrtle Beach. You died as you lived, with your head held high and an air of defiance.

When I called our vet at home to tell her what happened, she said, “Daisy Davis had a great life.” And oh, did you ever.

I made the decision to get a second lab when my black lab Winnie was about two. I thought she’d be lonely after my roommate moved out with her dog. For weeks, Winnie was not at all interested in you. This made you only want Winnie’s love and affection more. You cried all night long like a newborn baby those first few days and it drove Winnie insane. Wherever Winnie went, you'd would follow. You were constantly hungry and would nip at Winnie’s heels for her attention. Over time, Winnie started to see you as her puppy and trained you as such. I always say I didn’t really have to do a lot to train you because Winnie did it.

You were quick to house train, but had some behaviors that earned you the name Crazy Daisy. You destroyed a laptop keyboard about two days after I bought it. You chewed a hole in the wall of a rental home that my dad had to drive two hours to repair. You laid by the fireplace and chewed the carpet until you pulled it up completely. One day you wandered off in our unfenced backyard and were gone for an hour. Then you appeared at the front door like nothing ever happened. You once killed a rabbit and brought it to me. I buried it. You dug it up and brought it back to me with such pride.

You and Winnie had such wonderful moments that I will cherish forever. But after Winnie died in 2015, you really became the most wonderful dog.  I was so devastated to lose Winnie. As soon as I got home from the vet, you attached yourself to my side and never really left., I went back to work for two days and then we had two snow days. We spent the time playing in the snow, grieving together and learning how to become a household of two. Those are some of my most treasured days with you. I worried about you being bored during the day and bought you an expensive, elaborate toy with a maze design that would release treats throughout the day. For days, you didn’t play with it and then one day, you simply destroyed it. You got all the treats at once. Delayed gratification was not something that you were interested in.

As soon as we moved into this house, your  favorite place to be was sitting in the dining room staring out the window. You would bark at everything. I’d look at the security camera and see that you sat there all day. You would lose your mind when I left the house and greet me with barks and licks whenever I came home. If I took a trip, you would happily greet me when I returned and then ignore me for a day or two to let me know that you weren't a happy camper.

You always crossed your paws as if you were a grand dame. In retrospect, you were. I looked back at old pictures and I can track you starting that when you were around a year old.

You always hated puppies. They stressed you out, got on your nerves and made you act like a snapping turtle. I wondered many times if I did the right thing bringing Penny into our household just a month after Winnie’s death. For weeks, you were pissed. You would snap at Penny, run from her and drool from the stress. Then one day, you just laid her head on top of Penny to cuddle and everything changed. You begrudgingly loved her and spent five years being an amazing big sister.

You were a funny dog with a great sense of humor. You were perpetually goofy and loved to make people laugh. You were also a weirdo. One of your favorite activities was stealing used tissues or napkins that you would manically shred. You had to be carefully watched. You'd stalk me if I blew my nose, just hoping to get that tissue. You'd recently become obsessed with licking the couch and would get mad when I made you stop. You were the nosiest dog ever. You'd bust into any room during any occasion to see what was going on. I don’t think I’ve used the bathroom alone for nearly 15 years. When my mom came after Winnie died, she brought a ton of snacks that she left in the guest room. When we returned, you'd eaten every one. This included opening a packing of Nutella and licking every drop out, then replacing the lid. You could open canned dog food and would eat every morsel, never cutting yourself.

As you grew older, you transitioned from Crazy Daisy to Grumpy Gus. You were constantly annoyed and put upon. There was a lot of grunting and groans and deeply annoyed sighs. The infamous Daisy Attitude Stare could be withering. But when you were happy, you were so joyful and it was contagious.

While you definitely slowed down the last six months of your life, you'd  have these bursts of energy where you'd do bad things that would inevitably make me laugh. At my parents’ house in December as I recovered from jaw surgery, you'd bust down the baby gate in my bedroom and go stare at my parents creepily while they slept. You dug through the trash can (lots of used tissues in there) and opened Christmas presents under the tree. During the last few weeks of your life, you stole a sandwich and a biscuit from me. You recently taught yourself how to open the pantry and opened a bag of treats. Every day, you'd take a bite. This went on for about a week without me noticing what you were really doing. You were criminally smart.

I intentionally chose a puppy with a black nose. When you first came home with me, your nose was like a little piece of coal. Over the years, it slowly turned pink. It felt like an elaborate prank. There was nothing that brought you more joy than rolling on your back through some grass or rolling across my freshly vacuumed carpet with glee.

As mobility became an issue, I had an industrial strength baby gate installed at the bottom of the stairs. You quickly figured out how to open it and came and went as you pleased. You hated when I put you in costumes for holidays but would begrudgingly oblige. Yaviri would come and take our photos and you'd pose like a Cover Girl when photographed alone. When Penny and I joined the pictures, you were annoyed.

It became harder to earn your love as you got older. You were very skeptical of people and constantly sighing and rolling your eyes.  But when you loved someone, you loved them with the fire of a thousand suns. 

When I almost lost you in 2019, I asked you to hang around for me and help me through some things. I had two major surgeries coming up later that year and I needed you. And you came through. You were  by my side every step of the way through both surgeries. I spent 18 weeks of medical leave at home with you and have been working from home in a pandemic since March. None of those days have been easy. But I am so thankful that we had so much time together in the last year of your life. I was hoping that you'd make it through COVID with me and you definitely fought the good fight. But I know you were tired.

If I have one major regret with you, it is that I spent too much time worrying about what could or would happen. For months, I stressed about when was the right time to say goodbye and whether you were suffering. I should have known that you would let me know when you were ready. And you did. I knew it was coming so I had a week where you ate whatever you wanted. I made you steaks and shrimp on the grill. You had squash and a birthday cake for turning 14.5. You ate like a queen. And a pig.

The morning that you died, I took you to the beach at sunrise. You enjoyed being in the ocean. You took a nap in the sun and it seemed to be shining just on you. You always, even on the hottest of days, would find a patch of sun to nap in. You had a Bojangles biscuit. We had a nearly four hour wait at the vet’s office during which I changed my mind about 100 times. But I knew that it was right and so did you.

When Winnie died, the medicine kicked in so quickly. As soon as they gave her the shot, she was gone. You, in typical Daisy fashion, lingered a bit. You were too independent to just go when someone told you to. You were going to do things the way you wanted. For a few seconds, I thought you might be the first dog to ever survive euthanasia. I told her you to go find Winnie. I know that you hung in as long as you did for me. I don’t think you ever thought of dying as an option. You hung in for me as long as you possibly could.

The night before, I played the new album Gaslighter by The Chicks. There’s a song called Set Me Free. I was still trying to decide what to do. I’d grabbed a pillow and a blanket and was laying on the floor with you. Then I heard these lyrics and it felt like you were talking right to me:

Decency
Would be for you to sign and release me
If you ever loved me
Then will you do this one last thing?
Set me free, set me free
Oh, set me free
Set me free, let me be
Oh, set me free

So I took my favorite girl to the beach that you loved. And then I set you free. The last words I told you were that it was OK to go, that I would be OK. I am not even remotely close to being there yet. It feels like my heart is absolutely broken into pieces. The pain of you not being in this house is physical. Penny is trying really hard to be a good girl like you taught her. We are in this awful pit of grief that we’re struggling to crawl out of. And yet, I know we will learn to move on and be OK. You showed us how, baby girl.