August 16, 2013, Friday. 7:00 pm.
The vet said Daisy is going downhill fast. That was maybe three weeks ago. She said Daisy might make it until the end of summer and we should understand that we are now in end-of-life care. I didn’t believe her. Daisy and I, we’ve been taking walks in the morning, she’s been all tail-waggy and engaged. She hangs out with us on the patio in the evenings, she jumps on the bed to sleep with us at night, she makes sure we are always all where we’re supposed to be (even the cats). She is happy, not ready to go. I gave her ’til the end of the year.
She’s only bones and fur, now, and the fur is falling out fast. I worried about how we’d keep her comfortable once the cool weather started. We’re clever, though; we’d come up with something to make our bag-of-bones puppy warm enough in the winter.
This week, she’s stopped eating. Not full-out stopped but it’s a battle to get anything down her. I’m resorting to all sorts of tricks. Cat food, peanut butter, cheese…whatever it takes to get a few bites in her. Each day, she eats less. Today, she had a handful of frosted mini-wheats and nothing more.
We took a walk this morning but she didn’t want to go far. Her tail wagged the whole time but she was quick to lead us home where she went up to the bedroom and curled up in her spot. I left for work. When I came back, she didn’t run to greet me. She was on the bed, waiting.
Now she only wants to go outside if she absolutely has to pee, no longer caring to hang out in the yard because the cats and I are out there. She wants to be in her spot by my side of the bed or up on the bed, itself.
She’s all bones. Bones and fur that’s falling out. But she still wags her tail when I say her name.
August 17th, Saturday. 3:00 pm
We just finished burying Daisy May in the backyard. The vet showed up a little after 2:00 pm and Daisy made her last stand – she jumped up, trotted her best trot, and barked. Then she went back to bed and collapsed.
My parents came by this morning to say goodbye. That made her happy; she loved them. They loved her, too. Gabe and I, Toki and Evie, we were all there when the vet put the magic death potion into her paw. We all watched her, petted her, made sure she knew she wasn’t alone and that she was so very loved.
Next spring, we will plant flowers on her. Daisies. She can push them up from below.
10 responses to “Pushing up Daisy”
Oh Erica, we are soooo sorry for your loss. We have been there and done that with our chocolate lab Guido. There are no words to describe the pain that we endured and to this day we still feel the pain. I wish there was something I could do to make you feel bette, but alas I cannot. Only time we sooth the hurt. Please read the poem Rainbow bridge. Darlene and I are here if you need us to talk to. Once again sorry for your loss.
Thank you, Lou & Darlene.
This wasn’t my first but it was Gabe’s. With Kassidy, she went to the vet and came back in a little urn. Today, Gabe had to hold onto Daisy while she faded out. It’s been hard.
We both feel good about the whole thing, though. Not like, “Oh, yay! Our little dog is dead!” but…well, we did everything we could make sure the end of her life was great – filled with love and adventures and snuggles and friends. I think she was happy. It was the best possible death, too – she was at home with the people her loved her. She wasn’t scared. She was ready to go. And she timed it perfectly since we were able to spend the whole day with her. We didn’t have to come home and find her gone after work or anything. So as much as one can feel good about losing a furkid, I feel good about today. I’m glad she’s at rest.
We just miss her, is all.
I will dig up some Daisies for you guys to plant. I am so so sorry Erica. Daisy loved you bunches for the life you gave her. Blessed Be
Thank you, Bedot. I’d like that a lot.
I’m going to go down to the stream, soon, and bring some rocks up to make a little border and we’ll put the daisies there next year.
Man, this one was hard. Not that it’s ever easy, but…ugh.
Oh honey-bear! I’m so sorry! It’s never easy to lose a furkid. I never met her, but I’m sure that she was a wonderful doggy dog. I wish that I could give you and Gabe the biggest, squeeziest hugs right now!!! At least you got to spend her last day here together, giving her loves and letting her know that she wasn’t alone. Planting Daisies next year is a perfect way to pay tribute to such an awesome member of your family. Whenever I see Daisies from now on, I’ll think of you. In fact, I’ll plant some on Gizmo next year too so that they can push up daisies together…
I love you, sweetie. Hugs from far away! ❤
Thank you so much. Mostly for putting daisies on Gizmo. I think Daisy would like that; she doesn’t like to do things alone, you know, so this will make her happy. And Gizmo will probably remind her of Evie, what with soft fur and all. So that’s doubly good!
Seriously, though, thank you. Your message actually makes me feel better. It’s good to know other people understand this crap…even though it’s stupid that anyone has to understand this crap. And you just went through it, so – solidarity.
I am so, so sorry to read this. She sounds like she was such a huge, amazing, beautiful part of your lives and it is always heartbreaking to have to let that go. Also heartbreaking to have to watch them fall apart piece by piece. But how wonderful that the vet came to your home to do it so that she could be in her place when she said goodbye to this world. And how beautiful to plant daisies on her in her honor. So much love to you and your family and thoughts for a peaceful next step for Daisy.
Thank you so much. I can’t tell you how much everyone’s support has helped us. Well, ok, it didn’t at first. It only made us cry more. But we’re beyond the sobbing stage and now we’re getting all these hugs, both virtual and in real-time, and it helps so much. It’s true that when you share pain like this, it lessens at the source. So thank you.
I’m so sorry.
And here’s something cute that is related. We let Daisy have empty peanut butter jars, leaving enough in for a taste but not enough to do her harm. Well, the day after she died, we had an empty peanut butter jar, which made me cry because I had no one to give it to. And then I realized – Hey! I can still give it to her. I’ll make a little shrine of peanut butter jars on her grave. I put the lid on and took it out there and placed it on the paving stones atop her resting place and felt really good about it. A few days later I went outside and the peanut butter jar was open and lying in the yard…with little raccoon prints all around. I think Daisy would have liked that…mostly because she could have barked at the raccoons.