Goodbye, Daisy: Thirteen Years of Yes

Daisy said yes to everything. Yes to the walk. Yes to the ball. Yes to the stranger on the sidewalk, yes to the vet, yes to the car, yes to the couch. For thirteen years, she said yes.

She came into my life the winter after my father died, and I do not think it was an accident. She was a scruffy brown dog who leaned against my leg while I cried on the kitchen floor, and she never left.

We said goodbye on a Sunday in April. The vet came to the house. We lay on the living room rug in the sun, and she rested her head on my arm. I told her what a good girl she was, over and over, until she was gone.

The house is quiet now. I still hear her nails on the hallway floor. I still step over the place where her bed was. Grief for a dog is real, and it has no schedule.

I wrote this because someone told me it would help. It does, a little. Thank you for reading about her. If you are missing someone four-legged today, I am sorry, and I hope you find a place to tell their story too.