daisy

I've never lost anyone too close to me, and for that, I guess, I'm grateful. But, tonight good old Daisy Doozle was put to sleep, and I don't think I've ever been so sad. Really. The royal wedding extravaganza begins in a few hours but it's hard to care. What do dogs care about extinct monarch relevance anyways?

It's late, and this is written on the spot, but I guess it really doesn't matter anyway.

I distinctly remember the evening we got Daisy. Well, distinctly remember for how young I was. We were in the Stewart's backyard (they lived in our neighborhood at the time) and we were playing with little white haired mut puppies. I don't remember the details, and I don't know why my parents picked the little dog named "Rascal" at the time, but I went home that night with a borrowed Nintendo and a little puppy. I remember sitting in bed with my mom discussing potential names for the dog, and somehow (I don't know how), Daisy became her name.

I remember:

picking up Daisy by the stomach in our old back yard and my mom telling me that wasn't how you picked puppies up.
the little cage she slept in in the old pantry.
attaching Daisy to her old red (or was it purple?) leash and having her pull me around on rollerblades.
when one of Daisy's hairy brothers would show up in our back yard.
pretending Daisy was a wolf.
her flea collar. and the shiny metallic choke collar Dad would use when he took her for walks.
the little stocking my parents filled with dog treats that came from santa.
when we'd cross the bridge on our way to Irondequoit with Daisy in the back row of our old blue dodge caravan and she'd start going crazy because she could smell the big backyard miles away that she would play in for days and days.
W-A-L-K
when papa would throw her tennis balls. and when he'd get mad at Daisy for barking too much and pull out the newspaper (which she respected with dogly dignity).
when she'd get mad when dad and I wrestled.
when mom let Daisy run across the reservoir by our house.
when mom and dad walked her with us to the bus stop in the morning (and this one time when Daisy pulled mom too hard on the walk down the hill and mom slipped on the ice).
when she'd sleep under Jessie's bed during thunderstorms or fireworks.
when Daisy would bark daily. DAILY. at the paperboy, mailman, and UPS guy just to keep us safe.
when she'd bark alllllll the time and I'd yell at her to no avail.
petting her tummy, which she loved so much.
mom blowing on her face, which she hated so much.
Daisy sleeping by the fire on the crappy daily editions of the dominion post.
Daisy knowing when the family was all in one room and she'd run in to join.
Daisy dreaming doggy dreams laying on her back and running, running.

the Daisy smile.

and the things between just me and her:

when I would come home in highschool (drunk and sad) and Daisy would run up to my room (there was no food) and let me pet her forever just because she was happy to see me.

the little Doozle going crazy when I came home from Denison.

the week when my parents were in England and my sister was at band camp and Daisy slept in my bed every night. every night.

Rest in peace Daisy Lamb. I'm sorry I yelled at you so much. I hope you didn't mind. And I'm sorry I wasn't there in the end. You were the only real pet I ever had (the gerbils really didn't count). Thanks for protecting the house and thanks for being part of the family.

Love,
Ryder