farewell, daisy

Last night, my mom let me know that our family dog, Daisy, had died over the weekend. She was an 11-year-old beagle mix and truly one of the sweetest dogs I've ever met (and I've met a lot of them now that I volunteer at an animal shelter).

Like many dogs, Daisy loved to eat. When she was getting hungry, she'd leave one of her beloved stuffed dog toys in her empty bowl as if offering up a trade. She had discriminating tastes, however. My parents introduced her to table scraps as a treat, and once she knew such manna existed, she refused to eat her dry dog food unless it included a morsel of something enticing on top. Despite her love of people food, she never acquired a liking for the day-old bagels that the local bagel shop gave away for dogs; she first regarded them with suspicion and then batted them around like toys.

Even more than food, Daisy loved our family. I remember once needing to keep her safe and out from under foot while some sort of work was being done on the house or yard (she was a strictly outdoor dog). I brought out a book and parked the two of us in a lawn chair out of harm's way, and she sat contentedly in my lap for hours.

When my parents recently moved from New Mexico to Hawaii, we were dismayed to discover, far too late, that Hawaii requires a blood test demonstrating response to the rabies vaccine no fewer than 120 days prior to a pet's entry into the state. The alternative is to place the pet in quarantine on arrival for up to 120 days in a state-maintained facility, at the owner's expense.

Mom and Dad decided to leave Daisy behind rather than uproot her and subject her to the quarantine. I was rather angry and disappointed at first, arguing that they should have the blood test performed, leave her with friends until the 120 days had elapsed, and then go back for her. (I know, not everyone is as crazy about their pets as I am.) In the end, however, in a wonderful twist of fate, Jeffrey, the guy who bought our house, offered to take Daisy with it. Not exactly a typical real estate transaction!

Jeffrey turned out to be a great big softie who, soon after moving in, felt sorry for Daisy's having to endure the desert summer heat and brought her inside - after first asking my parents if it was okay (even though the house was now his!). He sent periodic updates to my parents, describing how Daisy and he would sit in the living room and watch TV together. I am sad that none of us was with her at the end of her life, but I am really grateful that she spent her last days in her familiar home, in the company of a kind and loving person.


(photo by Stoltze, on Flickr)