Daisy would have turned nine years old yesterday. I brought her home as a six-week old puppy.
She was the first dog I ever had all by myself. She took advantage of my easy-going ways and was domineering, stubborn, utterly frustrating. She also was highly intelligent, extremely sensitive and greatly devoted to me. I think she would have given her life for me. Perhaps I am anthropomorphizing her, but one thing I know is that I was the one true love of her too-short life.
I called Daisy by many different names. When she felt like it, she answered to any of them. Daisy Queen, Queenie, Baby Daze, Miss Puppy Girl, Sassy Brat. Her official name, when I registered her with the American Kennel Club, was Celayne’s Darlin’ Daisy. I never called her by that one. It was too long.
When I sat with her in our vet’s office almost a year ago, saying goodbye as she succumbed to hermangiosarcoma, I called her by all of her names, even her too-long official name.
My good girl, I miss you every single day.