Good girl Daisy

Our family dog passed away a couple of weeks ago. I want to share with all of you what my step Dad wrote in her memory:

Friday, January 23, 2009

Good Girl Daisy

A Shetland Sheepdog like no other, our beloved Daisy has been called into service by The Shepherd in Heaven. We know that Heaven is a happier place because of Daisy - she makes friends where ever she goes - but it hurts so much to be without her.

Daisy came to us at a time when we were all still settling in together, she helped us become a family and turned our house into a home. The cats seemed none too thrilled, but that didn’t faze her; she went on to tease and torment them for the rest of their lives. After ‘Precious’ then ‘Jane’ each passed away, Daisy noticed that one of her roommates didn’t make it back from the vet, looked inside the empty cat box, then pined in that sorrowful way that doggies do.

Now, we are all pining for Daisy.

We all loved her and she returned that love to us tenfold.

No-one loved Daisy more, nor showed their love better than Scott. After he moved into the house three years ago, Daisy became rejuvenated; we know that she lived a much longer and happier life because of him. He bought her toys and treats, played with her, bathed her and made sure that she stayed active. One other (perhaps minor?) thing that happened when Scott moved in: he ‘liberated’ Daisy from being forced to sleep in the laundry room. She really seemed to appreciate the new sleeping arrangements, whereby she got to sleep on her very own pillow on the floor of his room. Who’d a thunk it??

She did have a few quirks. You could never really take her for a walk, she would take you. She’d twirl around so much that it was hard to hold on to the leash. But, she was a sheepdog and as far as she was concerned, you were her sheep.

She had a huge problem with my guitar playing. Whenever I reached into the kitchen ‘junk drawer’ to pull out a guitar pick, she knew what was about to happen and would run over to the guitar and bark her little head off. She was probably just speaking up on behalf of music lovers everywhere.

She hated vacuum cleaners, brooms and the electric carving knife – she’d go ballistic at the very sight of them; we never did get to the bottom of that issue. She didn’t think too highly of power washers either, but, I was right with her on that one.

She was obsessed with balls – soccer balls, footballs, baseballs – anything spherical and/or an object thrown or kicked between parties of two or more. She always wanted in on the game, running back and forth, panting almost to the point of exhaustion. On one steamy summer’s day, she almost did pass out; we had to sit her in a tub of water to cool down.

With soccer, she could read body language as well as any defender in the English Premier League. Based on stance, ball-to-kicker angle differential and a keen sense of vector projection, she always knew exactly where to stand in order to receive the ball. She would even kick the ball when you told her to; she was usually more responsive to an English accent.

Fetching a ball never really caught on with Daisy, her take on it was more like: OK, I am now standing over the ball, go on and try to take it away from me. She made up her own rules.

Thankfully, Daisy was barely aware of the tumor that kept growing inside her; she just went about her business. She did seem to sleep a little more as the years went on, but that sort of thing happens after a lifetime dedicated to counting sheep.

Last weekend, things took a turn for the worse and by Wednesday night, she was in very bad shape. I called Scott on his cell then he rushed home; we both knew that the dreaded day had come. We would not let her suffer. As much as we had tried to prepare ourselves for this day, it was no less painful. Unfortunately, Mary was away on business and would not be able to say her final goodbye.

Daisy passed away peacefully in the loving arms of Scott, as we both stroked her and told her how much we loved her.

Our home feels so empty. I’d give almost anything to hear the sound of those paws scrambling towards the front door to welcome me home.

Daisy, thank-you for coming into our lives, it was an honor and a privilege to be among your sheep.

We will always miss you and will never forget you.

Good girl Daisy, good girl.