On a warm January day, we drove to a colleague's house to check out the remaining puppies of a large litter. I remember the sounds of the puppies yapping as they playfully bounded into the room, followed immediately by their mama. One lagged behind and tried to hide behind her brothers and sisters. This was Daisy, and I knew when I saw her that she was our dog.
Daisy was a shy puppy, but one look in those limpid brown eyes, and I was hooked. I thought of all types of grandiose, literary names for her, but after kicking them around, we decided her given name, Daisy, was fitting. Her puppy smell filled my car as we brought her home. She whimpered, and I thought she'd grow out of it, especially since she was leaving her family and joining a new one. Sadly, she's never grown out of whimpering, but now it means something else.
We were entranced by Daisy as she figured out our little house. Our son toddled after her, trying to pet her. In fact, one of my favorite pictures of the two of them is him sitting cross-legged with his arm over Daisy, who cuddled next to him. He's smiling, and she looks bewildered.
Daisy quickly taught us her quirks. For one, she hated her kennel. I know this because she would go to the bathroom in it, and then she'd move away from her mess until we came home. It took me a few weeks to decide that she was much better staying outside when we weren't home. She also liked chewing on wood and plastic. She ate our trash cans, wooden swing, trees, shrubs, and most all of our son's plastic toys. Once, she ate his bike helmet. Any new foliage had to have a protective fence around it. Daisy helped us understand that she's a social dog with other dogs; we learned this because she would bark all day at the dogs next door. Finally, we learned that Daisy didn't like dog food because she wouldn't eat it. We have spent years at vet offices, with them asking us if we regularly feed her. She was so underweight that we could see her ribs.
Ten months after we got her, after sleepless nights and destroyed objects, we decided we might need another dog to help her learn to be a dog. We adopted Jesse from the Dumb Friends' League. He came with his own baggage. First, he was grossly overweight and had been in shelters for several months. He was also a runner; open the door and he was gone. He was so strong, he could push fences out of his way to go exploring. Lastly, he was an eater. We had to take food away from him or he would gobble all of it up. He got in the trash, ate anything that was in the sink, and destroyed our garden, eating vegetables. He did, however, provide companionship for Daisy.
Daisy began to act better, probably because Jesse was such a naughty boy, and we enjoyed having the two dogs. Three years after we adopted Jesse, he developed diabetes, and within eight months, he died. I feared that Daisy would return to her frustrating behavior...urinating in the tub, eating Dixie cups, licking dental floss, digging in the yard, but she didn't. Instead, she has matured. She also eats dog food instead of wood or plastic.
She is now "my" dog. It's like having a baby, albeit a hairy and slightly smelly baby, all over again. She follows me everywhere, including the bathroom. She sleeps on my feet at night, and regardless of where I am, Daisy must be there too. We walk regularly, an activity we both enjoy. When I sit on the couch, Daisy must sit next to me. She camps and hikes with us too, mostly staying with me while my husband and son fish or do other activities. When I'm sick, Daisy is by my side. When I'm sad, Daisy is there with her head on me.
Daisy is now nearly seven and has outlived several of her siblings. I can tell she's slowing down a little, and when we play rope, she doesn't jump quite as high. She's also put on weight, so much that the vet wants her to gain no more weight. I enjoy her companionship. She's funny, sweet, loving, and fun-loving. I knew Daisy was meant for us, nearly seven years ago, and we were meant for her.
Who can resist limpid brown puppy eyes?
