“I’m so sorry,” Sally said quietly, as she wrapped her arms around me and gave me a hug. “This must have been so hard for you, and especially for Bob. I know how much he loved her, and how much she loved him.”
“Yes, it was so hard. We cried a lot, knowing that we were going to lose her. We had called the vet to come and see her, but she started declining so fast, and we had to call again, and ask him to come so that she could leave us with peace and dignity. When the vet came to our house that day, he felt her abdomen and knew that she had developed cancer of the pancreas which probably started as much as a year ago. He said that was a common occurrence in dogs Daisy’s size, as well as retrievers and other dogs of similar size,” I said.
“I know she was special,” Sally said. “You told me that up until a couple of years ago, she loved to catch a frisbee in mid-air. never missed, and then you had to tickle her tummy to get it out of her mouth so you could throw it again.”
“Yes, we did that every day from spring to fall! My goodness, she was so agile and athletic,” I smiled.
“She loved Bob, didn’t she,” said Sally.
“He was absolutely her best buddy. Wherever he went, she went… to the utility room to do laundry; outside to work; to the bathroom to lie patiently while he conducted his business there! On her last day, they sat on the porch together. She could barely walk. He got up and left the porch, and she followed him about twenty feet, and then had to lie down. We cried to realize that she would follow him with the last bit of strength in her body.”
“She loved it outside, didn’t she?” asked Sally. “I know you told me that she loved watching over her dominion of two acres, especially from the porch, out the window, and in the back by the pine trees. “
“Oh, yes,” I replied, “and when she was younger, she would chase the deer that like grazing in our yard. She would take off like a shot, and they would run, leaping through the yard and into the woods. She would come back panting. She never caught one! But, that didn’t keep her from trying!” I grinned. “She was a good mole finder, though, and many met their demise at her skillful digging and sense of smell and movement under her feet. During the summer months, she would nuzzle me about 6 a.m. because she knew I liked to get up early and go outside and work in the flower areas. She loved going with me because she knew we would be out there at least two hours! Funny thing, though, on the days I wasn’t home, she never nuzzled Bob at 6 a.m! He doesn’t get up that early. Daisy was one of the smartest dogs I’ve ever known,” I said.
She never told me she didn’t like it when I put some of my crocheted creations on her for a photo shoot, so I just kept making her my model. A beautiful one she was, too.
“Don’t you have another dog?” asked Sally.
“Yes,” I answered. “Daisy’s other best buddy was Eddie. We knew that he knew she was sick in the last few months because they had stopped playing that nightly game of growling at each other and trying to nip one another. Eddie was inside after the vet left, and Bob, Jill, and I had gently placed her in the ground and covered her with a rug, tears dropping like rain, as we placed the dirt over her. It had been hard, knowing that she was not going to be with us, and finally making the decision to let her leave us in peace and dignity. Even though Eddie was not outside during her last moments, just this week, as he and Bob went out for a walk, Eddie went to Daisy’s grave and lay down on top of it. Dogs know, and they grieve, too,” I said.
Sally hugged me again. “Pets are family,” she said.
“Yes,” I sighed. “And it so hard to lose them. Daisy was our girl. We loved her, and we miss her.”
Daisy – October 28, 2010