My husband and I got Daisy before we got married. In April of 2004, I saw her on a rescue site and fell in love. While we both grew up around dogs, hubby was hesitant because we were both in college at the time. He was worried about making sure we would have enough time to take care of a pet. Eventually I got him to agree to just "meet" her. We set up a meeting and found out that two other families were interested in adopting her, besides us. I saw her get out of the rescuers' car and I knew she was going home with us. As we were told her story (a farmer had found her wandering his fields and was going to shoot her until his wife talked him into catching her and taking her to the pound; she was set to be put down because she had been there too long when the rescue organization stepped in before that could happen), Daisy laid her head in my lap. The rest is history.
Daisy was a source of never ending love. I still maintain that she was so grateful to be rescued that she did everything she could to please us. A few years later, we added to our family. Bear, a Bernese Mountain Dog (BMD or Berner), was adopted in 2008. Daisy is the reason we adopted Bear. We knew Daisy was a BMD/border collie mix. After realizing what a sweet disposition she had, we did research into the BMD breed and found out that Berner's are very sweet. loving, and good with children. We were sold, all thanks to Daisy.
In 2009, we added to our family again. This time, we had a baby boy. She took to him immediately and watched over him all the time. She never growled, grumbled, or showed her teeth to him, even when he would accidentally pull her tail when learning to walk or fall on her when he would trip. Daisy loved him, unconditionally. She was the exact same way when we added to our family again, another son, in 2011.
I don't want to focus on the end, but suffice it to say she went downhill quickly and we knew that we had to do something. It was time. She had a seizure and then started what my dad calls the endless circle (pacing and walking in circles).
Bear watched over her until the end. My husband and I knew we had to tell the boys what was going on as the night progressed and things started getting worse. My youngest, who is 3, was fine. I'm not sure he totally understood what was happening, but we gave him the chance to say goodbye and give her one last hug.
My oldest, on the other hand, did not take it well. I knew he wasn't going to. But I also knew we had to tell him the truth, and not make it sound like she was being shipped off to a farm somewhere. First, if it sounded like that he would want to try to see her again. And second, we wanted him to understand that she was not going to be suffering anymore.
He lost it. He tried to negotiate. He tried to suggest ways to help her, to fix whatever was wrong with her. He wanted to feed her, thinking it was her stomach. We had to explain that something was wrong with her head, and the vet couldn't fix it.
I know people who don't get having pets would wonder why we would put ourselves through this, put our children through something like this. "Your son is hurting! He is so young to feel pain like that!" Yes, he is hurting and no, he's not too young. Know why? Because he got to feel unconditionally loved by someone who NEVER hurt him. Daisy loved him with all of her being; she loved all of us that way. She never talked back. never questioned, never made him feel unwanted. When he wanted to give her hugs or pet her, she was there. When he talked about our family, she (along with the other pets we have) was always listed as a member, not as just a pet. He saw her as a part of this family. And she was.
He got to learn how to take care of someone other than himself. He got to know the high of getting a kiss or the warmth of her laying next to him. He got to feel all of that love. But with the highs, also come the lows. To appreciate the love he felt, he is now hurting because Daisy's love is no longer right here with him. He will have to learn to remember her kisses and her warmth, but without having her at all, he wouldn't have anything to remember. He will always have her love in his heart.
It tears me apart to hear him cry himself to sleep tonight, clinging to her picture and calling out for her. But in his pain, I also hear his love for her. Which is an amazing thing. He is 5, and loved someone so deeply that he is calling out to her. Can you imagine the kind of love he has for her? Pet people know this, and if you've never had a pet that you loved this way, you are missing out. Every pet adoption comes with the promise of this kind of love, but also with the knowledge that it won't last forever. So we make the most of the time that we have with our pets, because we love them and they love us back. But they love us in a way that we can never fully understand or appreciate. We get tied up in ourselves; pets don't do that. They love regardless.
When the time comes, we will probably move on and adopt again. As George Carlin once noted, "Life is a series of dogs." So ours will be. We will all learn to love again, we will all be hurt again. But we wouldn't have it any other way. And you know what? That's OK.
Rest in peace, my dear Daisy. We all miss you more than you will ever know.
