All for the Love of You

We just got back from a cruise. But this isn't about that. It's about losing Daisy, our young dog.

We were told months ago that Daisy most likely had kidney failure based on her symptoms and that we probably had a year left with her. At the end, she would stop eating and start throwing up because of the toxins in her body. I didn't believe it. Surely something else was going on. She looked too healthy and happy!



Her eating habits were always wonky for a dog- she was finicky, like a cat. But at the end of September, she started skipping meals. We kept trying different kinds of dog food in hopes she'd find something she liked. No luck.

In the meantime, she was still running around at full blast. Running to me when she spotted me in the morning, jumping into my lap and licking my face frantically. Finally, I'd say, "that's enough," pulling her soft little body out in front of me so that we were face to face. She'd sit in my lap, those ridiculously long legs propping her up while I scratched her belly.



We were always outside for our morning ritual. We had to be because little Daisy had a problem. She peed a lot. Sometimes if we forgot to take her out, urine would gush out of her, uncontrolled. She felt bad about that. She'd run to the door or hide. She knew she was supposed to do that in the grass.

Around the time that she became extra fussy about eating, I found a phenomenal fare to Seattle during my birthday week in late September. I told Greg I wanted that to be my birthday present. We had booked a cruise almost a year ago to see the fall foliage in New England and Canada during early October, but I would be back in time for that.

My week in Seattle was one of the best I've had. I'm glad I went. But when I got home Greg told me Daisy wasn't doing well. She had been in a kennel for a few days while Greg was out of town and when he brought her home she stopped eating altogether. I thought she was depressed, missing me. I lavished her with attention. I took her with me on errands. Greg said she looked a little better but she still wouldn't eat. And when I held her on her back in the crook of my arm to scratch her tummy, I felt her bones poking through the fur.

The next day she refused water. She didn't run to me in the morning. And then the vomiting started. She threw up all morning. I stroked her back while it was happening and told her it would be OK. I knew what it meant so I told her she was a good girl and that we loved her.

Unfortunately, this was the day we were leaving for our cruise. We had a kennel booked and were planning to leave our house at noon, though we had some wiggle room. It was around 11:00 when Greg called our veterinary friend for advice. He said Daisy wouldn't survive the kennel and that it would be an unpleasant death. He said if it was his dog, he'd make an appointment with our vet to put her down immediately.

I was sitting with Daisy on the floor when Greg told me. I nodded. He called our vet who said Greg would have to bring her in right away if we wanted to do it that day. Suddenly, Greg was taking her from me, telling me he had to leave. I was sobbing and asked if there was anything else we could do. Greg said no. And then they were gone.

Here's a stupid detail. I couldn't go with them because I had dye in my hair. I was covering the gray for our cruise. There wasn't even enough time for me to wash it out. Instead, I put her stuff away that we were planning to take with her to the kennel, navigating the house with blurry eyes as I cried.

Greg brought her home and buried her next to Henry.

We loaded our bags and left. Too fast. It all happened too fast. I didn't have time to process it.

First day of the cruise, I cried whenever I was alone. Second day, I got angry. I was irritable and mean to Greg. I knew I had to deal with losing Daisy somehow. When I found out there was a chapel on the ship, I decided to give it a try, even though I have issues with God at the moment.

It was a small chapel, non-denominational and thankfully- empty. I closed my eyes and thought about Daisy: the day I brought her home from the shelter; her maniacal running, around and around in circles; the way she tossed her toys in the air; her furtive licks. I pictured her in heaven, running free in a field without the invisible fence collar, playing with other dogs and drinking from a toilet as much as she wanted.

And then my crying stopped. I felt peaceful.

I managed to enjoy the cruise after that, even making a button without crying with a drawing I did of Daisy. (It was one of many of the ship's on board activities.)



I knew I'd grieve all over again when we got home to our empty house, but that's OK. She was a special little light, one who shouldn't be forgotten easily.

Everyone tells us the same thing: We gave Daisy a loving home during her short life. We did all the right things. I know that's true but tell my arms why they're so empty, tell my heart why it aches. I loved her. I miss her.