I vaguely remember when we first got Daisy. I was five years old when my dad, grandma, and I drove to downtown Seattle to meet with my dad’s friend who I assumed worked at the animal shelter we were going to. I was excited because I was the one who got to pick out the dog for my grandma. The shelter had big windows, the dogs’ pen's were shown in the windows, and people were allowed to go into the pen and play with them. I only remember there being two dogs on the side that I was on; Daisy, who was a German Shepard, and some annoying rat dog that barked at me the whole time.
Daisy was different than the other dogs in the pen. She laid her head in my lap, and let me pet her for what felt like forever. She didn’t get overly excited, or try to play with toys; she was just very relaxed and calm. I remember this standing out to me because all I wanted was a dog that I could hug and cuddle on the couch with. She was the one.
Driving home was a stressful experience. She sat in the front on a towel in my dad’s brand new leather interior. I remember him saying, “That dog better not pee in my new car” and I knew if she did it would be the end of having a dog.
She was not the same dog at the shelter; she was wild. My grandma would come home, and Daisy would have jumped the gate out of the kitchen into the rest of the house and destroy it. Plants were knocked over, pee was everywhere, and trash and toilet paper covered the floor. We would walk her across a bridge that crossed over the 405 freeway everyday to get her energy out. One day I was allowed to be the one to hold the leash, and she immediately knew I was not strong enough. A squirrel was about 600 feet a head of us and Daisy took her chance. She ran full speed, tearing my arm out of its socket, to go after the squirrel that she didn’t catch. We still got along after though.
Daisy soon became the best dog. I know a lot of people can say that about their dog or pet, but after her puppy phase she really was the best dog. She was loyal, compassionate, selfless, and she gave unconditional love. She was always happy, always running and thankful for trips to the park. She never had one issue.
Daisy hit the old age of 14. She started losing weight, developed arthritis, and was usually unable to control her bladder. She wasn’t allowed to walk up the stairs anymore and we blocked it off with a baby gate. Her walks consisted of down the alley way and back. Sometimes her back legs would give out and I’d have to pick her up for her to get back on her feet, and sometimes she couldn’t stand at all and I’d have to carry her inside. But she still always had a smile on her face, and was excited whenever she heard me walk through the door. But the vet said she still had a long future ahead of her.
I remember being annoyed getting a phone call in the library while I was studying for midterms. I remember leaving the library to answer the phone, and my heart sinking when I heard the words “Daisy is dead”. I immediately left. I remember being annoyed how far my car was parked, how I hit every light, and how I had to slow down for someone to cross the street. I sat with her until someone came to pick up her body. I don’t even think I had pet her that morning, and then I was petting her motionless body. The man was too small to carry her up the stairs and get her into the car. That was the last time I got to carry her.
