Daisy has been in remarkable health for most of her life. Other than some allergy sensitivities and a bout with doggy vertigo that landed her in the hospital for a couple of days, she's been easy to care for and she's led a life of comfort and happiness. A few months ago, we noticed changes. She paces constantly around our kitchen (I call it her evening constitutional since it is more prevalent in the evening). She can't go up/down stairs and sometimes has difficulty getting "her legs under her," and any uneven ground can cause her to topple. The most distressing symptom is seizure - one a couple of months ago, and another today. They have both happened in the early morning hours, and they leave both of us shivering.
I did not take her to the vet the first time she had the seizure, I think partly because I was hoping it was a one-time occurrence and partly because I do not want to have that "quality of life" discussion with the vet and discuss the possibility of ending Daisy's life with a shot. I always hoped she would go gently, in her sleep. I don't want to be responsible for making a decision that ends her life. But yet, I know she struggles to move around. And I know in the end, I will find the strength to do what is right for her.
Daisy was my rescue dog. By that, I mean that I feel like I rescued her from a certain early death at the pet store (no one had purchased her and she was over three months old, the clerk told me she would be put down soon); but also I understand that she rescued me. My mom had died some years before I found Daisy and my grief had changed me. I was no longer the happy, energetic person I used to be before my mom's death. Her suffering and death was with me on a daily basis, and I got super-busy in order to evade that memory. Even though I was a mom and had a full household, I worked full-time as a teacher and went to graduate school part-time. I kept busy with writing and working, even in the summer. I didn't allow myself a break. In "free time," I would sit and catalogue years worth of photographs and put them into albums. Scrapbooking was more than a hobby for me - it was an escape, but it was rooted in a past that was lost to me. I think all of us build up walls around pain -- but those same walls that protect us from discomfort, imprison us by keeping us separated from the present moment.
One day I brought my two sons to the mall and we saw Daisy in the pet store. She was trembling all over, and for some reason (I had never asked before) I asked if I could hold her. She melted into me and buried her little head into the crook of my elbow. She stopped shaking. I knew I couldn't leave her there. I remember thinking, "This little dog needs me." A trip to the vet confirmed that she was malnourished and in near critical health.
Once she got some strength back, Daisy took over the household! In the coming days and years, I found myself laughing more, and loving easier. The family spent more time together, playing with her. I pulled out of my grief and came back into my life. I remember one day when that came crystal-clear to me -- I was cleaning out my closet and I found a stuffed dog I had picked up at my mom's right after she died. It had sat on my mom's bed for years. The funny thing is, the stuffed animal gave me the thought that my mom had sent me Daisy. It was a thought that immediately gave me great comfort. And I realized that Daisy had brought peace to my heart.
Daisy has been with me now for so long that I don't remember not having her around. She has been with me through grief and joy, worry and excitement. She saw my children grow up and she has tolerated visits from my boisterous grandchildren. She slept on my lap so many hours it probably totaled years worth of time. All of those hours, my hands on her fur and her warmth on my lap was a therapy, a relief from overwork, exhaustion, and problems. She stood by me with unwavering faithfulness and persistence. She has given me so much for so long that I don't know what will fill the hole that will be left with her passing. All I know, is that I will do my best for her and try hard to be worth all the trust and love she has given me. It is my belief that our pets are angels that are sent to us to help us to find our own inner strength, to pull us out of our problems and to help us notice the beauty, the zest, the joy of living in the moment. Thank you Daisy. I'll try very hard not to lose the gifts you shared with me.
