A Dog Named Daisy

She was our friends' dog; a long haired sheltie.  She was dignified and well behaved.  Somehow the name didn't fit her.  I never asked why they gave her that name.

Daisy had a type of bile duct cancer maybe 4 or 5 years ago.  I went with my friend to the internal medicine vet who examined her.  He was compassionate and spent more than an hour with us explaining treatment options.   I was impressed.  Daisy had her surgery and recovered,

Daisy took some time to heal.  After she recovered, I happened to walk by her home with Zoey one day.  Daisy ran out to greet us. Happy to be alive and happy to see us.   She was not ordinarily an exuberant dog. Really, it was Zoey (not me) she was happy to see.   Zoey was indifferent.  Was Daisy's feelings hurt?  Is that anthromorphizing dogs too much?  I felt bad, not just for Daisy but that Zoey was missing a more human quality - the joy of seeing old friends. Indeed, Zoey and Daisy had spent much time over the years going on walks together with the neighborhood dog walker. It made no difference. On another occasion  a group of us were standing around talking at dusk one night.  Daisy got too close to Zoey and Zoey growled, scaring everyone, especially a 2 year old in a stroller.  I never had a dog who embarrassed me before.As if we can control all of what our dogs do.  We can't.

Daisy had to be put to sleep last week.  Just the week before, she had stood around again with several neighbors and their dogs in the late afternoon.  She backed up when Zoey got too close.  She remembered.  Zoey was no longer her friend.  Never was her friend. To be clear, Zoey is not a snarling, barking, straining at the leash kind of unfriendly dog.  She just doesn't want to have other dogs get within a foot or two of her,

Daisy's owner was ashen faced when he told me. He had just put her down when I happened to see him.   I was seized with sorrow.  Daisy the gentle, lady like sheltie was no more.  My friend's wife, is beyond disconsolate.  She went to the place where grief has no bounds.  I remember my grief when our old dog Rebe died.  I wailed like a banshee and shared a fifth of 20 year old Tawney Port with our son. Took the edge of grief down a notch.  I thought I could see Rebe's spirit ascend to the stars that evening. My friend doesn't want to talk about Daisy.  I understand. I'm crying as I write this.  Crying for all the dogs we loved and all the dogs who were never loved, who wandered mean streets, who died frightened and alone..

Daisy's death hit me hard.  No more benign and well behaved Daisy.  No more incidental chats while out walking our dogs. A part of our lives here is gone forever.

I'll miss Daisy and all she represented.  But Zoey won't.