For the Love of Dogs

Everyone has been writing about their pets and their dogs, so I figured I'd jump on the bandwagon. I actually tried to write a post about my dog a couple weeks ago, but I just couldn't bring myself to actually post it. I think that was one of the weeks I didn't post.

When I was 14 my family adopted Daisy, a two year old Great Pyrenees (or Pyrenean Mountain Dog). Her previous owners had left her outside all the time, and never combed her very long fur. They had taken her to the groomers to get all the matted hair shaved off and the groomer convinced them to give her up for adoption. And so she found her way into our home.

She was well behaved and never aggressive, but she was definitely distant at first. My parents live right next to the Jordan River Parkway and I was in the habit of going for nearly daily walks during summers, so I started taking her with me. Then when school started, I'd go into the backyard when I'd get home and play with Daisy for a while to get a break before diving into my piles of homework. Sometimes I'd even just sit in the hallway with her when I was thinking about something or brainstorming for a story.  Over time I realized she would come running up to me when I came home, and she minded me better than anyone else. Although she eventually opened up to everyone and wormed her way into all our hearts, she always listened to me the best.

I loved playing with her because she was so big and I could really get into it without worrying about hurting her. And she had the sweetest disposition, which was good because when I'd take her for walks little children would always run up to pet her, and she would just stand there patiently, tongue lolling while kids smeared orange cheetos dust into her white fur. She always made me feel safer too. I've been followed a few times on the parkway, but never when I had Daisy with me. She was also the best comfort when I needed to throw my arms around something big and substantial. She was the best pillow, although she rarely slept in bed with any of us. I think it was too crowded. However, she was terrified of storms. She loved snow, but thunder and lightening terrified her. Even strong winds caused her to come bursting into the computer room and curl up as small as she could be under my feet at the desk. Since we know she was left outside all the time, I think it was safe to assume that she was left outside during some pretty horrific storms. If it started storming during the middle of the night, she'd nearly break down my door to get into my room and would spend the rest of the night curled up on my bed. Although I hated that she was scared, those were some of the best nights for me.

Everything she touched was left in a coat of white hair. When I brushed her out, I did it outside, and afterwards the lawn looked like someone had thrown snow balls all around the grass. We could have made another dog out of all the fur she shed.

Big dogs are some of the sweetest creatures, but unfortunately they tend to be shorter lived than their lap dog cousins. The average life span for Great Pyrennes is 8 years. She made it to ten. Then one day in September I went over to my mom's house, and she told me I should go and say hi to Daisy in the backyard because she was sick and they had thought they were going to lose her the day before. Horrified I went outside and found Daisy standing in the middle of the lawn. She didn't run up to me like she normally did, but she did come when I called her. She seemed lackluster. Mom said she was doing better than she had been, but to me, Daisy wasn't there.

Three days later my mom texted me and asked if I was home. This seemed weird to me and I asked if Daisy was okay. No, she said. She was on her way out. I left school and drove to my mom's. I could go on and on, but basically Daisy was very sick. She couldn't eat or walk or go to the bathroom, and she was whimpering in pain. She was fighting to stay here though, so after most of the day had passed I insisted we take her to be put down. I couldn't stand to watch her suffer. It was driving me mad. Between my parents and I, we were able to maneuver all 100 pounds of her out of the house and into the car, and then into the vets office. After the vet gave her the shot and left the room, I wrapped my arms around my great white fluff ball and cried blue mascara all over her fur.

"Hi, Daisy!"

Two months later, and white Daisy fur still finds its way onto my clothes when I visit my parents. My mom has made a picture of Daisy her desktop picture on her computer and we chorus "hi, Daisy!" whenever she turns it on. I have had a lot of pets over the years, but there's few I've missed as much as I've missed Daisy. For all that she could trample me, she was my baby. I miss her ear snuffles and the gentle little licks she'd give the end of my nose with the tip of her tongue. I sincerely hope that if there is a heaven, it's one where we get to be with our furry loved ones again.