Smacksy Saturday Photo: Missing Daisy

Just missing her.

Thank You

Rainbow Bridge mural on the wall in our veterinarian's office

Guys. You are the best. I'm overwhelmed with all of the lovely comments and tweets and emails I've received about Daisy's passing. One of Mr. Rosenberg's friends shared the following quote with us and I fell in love with it.  

 

Author Donald McCaig wrote after the death of one of his dogs: "We carried him to his grave on his sheepskin bed and set his letter underneath. My wife, Anne, writes a letter for every one of our dogs and I have never asked her what she writes. She says it's a passport and I like to think of Moose coming to the last river he will ever cross and offering the boatman his letter, 'Oh, yes, I was a very good dog.'

But it may be, it just may be - all our dogs waiting on the far side of the river that Anne and I must one day cross - those letters may not be the dogs' passports. They may be ours."

 

Squeeze your people tight, furry and otherwise. 

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.

Daisy Check In

Daisy, circa 2007

Hi Everyone. Thank you so much for all of your kind words and questions about how Daisy is doing.

On Sunday she didn't want to eat and was breathing heavily. We took her in to the vet this morning and they did the same procedure they had done before to reduce the fluid from around her heart. A new untrasound showed that the tumor on her heart is getting larger.

The doctor estimated that Daisy should be with us for another week or so. Daisy's still good at snuggling and is always available for pets and cold nosed dog kisses. You know, the important stuff.

You can read about when Bob and Daisy met here.

Smacksy Saturday Photo: Retro Bob & Daisy

Them. circa 2008

The Latest

 
You guys? Daisy's doing great. We went to see the vet on Monday for a check-in and everyone was amazed at how much energy she had. She ran up to the veterinary technician who told us they had been expecting that we would have to carry Daisy into the office. The treatment to reduce the fluid around Daisy's sweet heart that they did last week is helping her to be much like her usual self. She sleeps a lot but she's not in pain.

Daisy has always been a runner. If the front door is open she will take off down the street waiting for us to run after her. It's her fun game and it's our chance to say hi to the neighbors while jogging and wearing pajamas. A few weeks ago, the last time Daisy got out, Teddy followed her and herded her back into the house. He's such a good guy. Daisy's not running out like she used to but she'll still run to the kitchen when she hears the word "treat."

We know the fluid will come back and either that or the cancer itself will cause problems soon enough, but for now we are all enjoying our time with her. Every day is a little party.

Bedtime Prayers

Bob and Daisy, circa 2008

"...and God bless Bob's school and all his teachers. Bob, who would you like to bless tonight?"

"God bless just four people: Daisy and Daisy and Daisy and Teddy. Oh, and you guys."

"Amen."

How We Do

We are all still hanging in. Our ad hoc doggy hospice is in place. Daisy does not appear to be in any pain. On the contrary, she is very busy eating lots of fancy pants canned food that cost more than our weekly grocery budget. Both dogs are enjoying special snacks (fettucini, anyone?), tummy rubs on the couch, and unrestricted barking at the FedEx guy.

Teddy is at Daisy's side, following her around the house and through the yard. He doesn't try to wrestle with her or play hard like he used to. He knows.

Everyone is still sleeping in one bed, for better or worse. There are a lot of dog hugs being given and received. The vet said we might get a couple of weeks. We're filling our time with the good stuff. What a gift to get such a long goodbye.

Thank you for all of your sweet comments and support. It does help a lot.

Daisy's Diagnosis

Our sweet Daisy endured an overnight-er at the emergency pet clinic, a trip to our regular vet, and numerous tests and procedures at the veterinary specialist. What we thought was a simple tummy problem has turned out to be much more.

Daisy has advanced cancer. She has tumors in her liver and her heart; her tiny puppy heart. She's only eight years-old and this is completely unexpected. She's back home with us now and we are giving her lots of treats and hugs during this time we have left with her.

Read a little more about Daisy here.

The Switch Off

Mr. Rosenberg and I switched closets tonight. Now he has the small one in Bob's room and I have the tiny bit less small one in our room. Part of the trade-off is that Daisy has chosen our bedroom closet (my new closet) as the place to set up her bed. This means my clothes will soon take on the Daisy scent. You will now know me by my distinct aroma of coffee, Chanel No. 5, and Fritos. Enjoy.

Smacksy Saturday Photo: Rosenfurs

The much adored, furry pals.

Drama at the Canyon

"Oh, no. Then what happened, Bob?"

"Then after Daisy got out of her collar she went running and running and running and she went over this fence and straight down this cliff and she kept running away."

"What did you do?"

"Dad and I were yelling at her to come back and Teddy stayed with us and I got scared that Daisy would never come back and then I was crying and everything."

"Uh oh."

"Yeah, but then she ran up this hill and she didn't see me and then I grabbed her and got her and I wasn't crying anymore and so we still went on the hike."

"You saved Daisy. You were very brave."

"I really was."

Smacksy Saturday Photo: Sleepin In

Nice guys.

Sweet Dreams

Yes. Mr. Rosenberg sleeps spooning the dog.

That Math

photo

"Mom? Who's older? You or Daisy?"

"I'm older than Daisy. She's only six."

"No, I mean if you count her in dog years."

"I'm still older."

"Wow."

Smacksy Saturday Photo: 5pm

Daisy at her evening post, waiting for Mr. Rosenberg to walk in the door.

Smacksy Saturday Photo: Dog. Bed.

The Family (Dog) Bed

Round One

You may recall The Star Wars Super Hut? We came home today to find that apparently our dog, Daisy, had gotten into some type of physical altercation with the previously-cube-shaped Super Hut. It also seems apparent that Daisy won this round.

Stay tuned.

Daisy's Thursday Schedule

7:27am Watch out the front window as Jeff drives away to work.

7:28am Get back in the big bed and spoon with the cat the kid and the lady.

8:05am Eat a peanut butter dog biscuit in the shape of a car.

8:07am Back in bed.

9:50am The end-of-cycle buzzer on the clothes dryer goes off unexpectedly. Shake uncontrollably and run to the back of the bedroom closet.

10:10am Shaking.

10:20am Stop shaking. Remain burrowed in back of closet.

10:45am Joined in back of closet by child.

10:51am Remain in closet, child leaves.

11:20am Remain in closet.

12:15pm Still in closet.

12:40pm Closet.

1:10pm Hear mailman on porch. Bolt from closet. Bark ferociously through the front window.

1:11pm Ordered to stop "causing a ruckus." Return to closet.

1:12pm Continue barking ferociously from inside the closet.

1:14pm Abandon barking. Commence howling. Remain in closet.

Take that, mailman.

Seasoned

Our canine Rosenberg, Daisy, has been a little off the past few days. She hurt her front passenger-side paw during a long run on Sunday. There has been noticeable improvement but while she's healing, she's doing a lot of sleeping. She takes turns laying on all of the soft surfaces in the house and is giving the mailman a few days off from her intense bark/howl greetings. There are many peanut butter snacks involved.

"Mama? Daisy pooped."

"Okay."

"No, no. In the house. She pooped in the house."

"Where?"

"On the rug."

"Which one?"

"In the living room."

"I'll get some paper towels."

"Mama? I touched the poop with my hand."

"Why?"

"Because I wanted to see what it felt like."

"Fair enough. How did it feel?"

"All poop-y, I think."

"I guess that's a good sign."

"It's the first poop I ever, ever, ever, ever, touched."

"I wish I could say the same. I'm a seasoned veteran."

"It's the season of summer now."

"It is."