Daisy

 
It's with a heavy heart that I tell you all that Daisy died. She passed peacefully on Tuesday afternoon. Please know how much I appreciate all of your love and good wishes that you've sent our way these past few weeks. It means the world to me.

In her memory, I'd like to share the story of how Daisy entered our lives.

Mr. Rosenberg and I had only known each other a short while. I was working as a coordinator at an outpatient program for teens with psychological and addiction problems. To celebrate three months of dating bliss, Jeff and I moved in together. We shared a 500 square foot single on the top floor of a six-story walk-up. Two weeks later he was ready to get engaged. I threw in a tiny speed bump, requesting that we wait until we had six months together to even start talking about it. Jeff countered with the next most logical commitment step: we should get a puppy.

I had lost my dear black lab, Stella, to doggy cancer five years previous. I knew I wasn’t ready for the emotional obligation of another furry pal, especially one who wasn’t housebroken, so I told Jeff that getting a puppy was a sweet idea and that we should think about it, fully intending to put it off at least until we were living someplace larger than the back booth at Jerry’s Deli.


Two days later, on a rainy afternoon, I took Tommy to Rae’s Diner for lunch. Tommy was a sweet and heavily medicated kid being treated for a number of psychiatric and developmental disorders. He talked slowly and he moved slowly. As we sat at the window with our grilled cheese sandwiches, I noticed a skinny little black dog in the parking lot. She was wrestling with a greasy paper bag she had pulled from the garbage.

“Hey Tommy, look. It’s a puppy.”

He turned to see the wet dog eating old french fries from a styro-foam container. Tommy slowly stood up from the table and then bolted out the side door of the restaurant. I watched as he ran to her and tried to pick her up. Ready to play, she took off down the sidewalk, and Tommy ran after her out of view. I had never seen Tommy walk quickly. I had certainly never seen him run.

I walked outside. Tommy came back into the parking lot, the puppy following close behind him. “We had a dog when I was little,” Tommy said. “Her name was Daisy.” When we got back to the office, I called Jeff.

“Tommy and I found this tiny starving puppy and she was eating garbage in the rain and she’s super cute and nice and I was thinking that we could maybe keep her until we find her owners or something because she’s so little and we couldn’t just leave her out there in the rain and she peed in the minivan but it’s not like you can really smell it in there or anything and I was thinking I could bring her home. What do you think?”

“I already love her,” Jeff said.

We named her Daisy.