Daisy was sort of the ultimate impulse buy. I guess it was twelve years ago my mother and I went into Petco because a girl I worked with had her dog there to have his picture taken with Santa. I was planning on rescuing a dog of the same breed, and wanted Mom to see him.
We didn’t know they were having an adoption fair at Petco that day.
Daisy was mangy – literally; we didn’t know what that meant, exactly, at the time – and skinny and extremely shy, but she liked us. So we took her home. Just for the holidays.
Twelve years worth of holidays.
I’ve been dreading this. She’s been less and less herself; since my mother had a fall a few weeks ago it seems like Daisy took a turn for the worse too. I haven’t been as patient as I should have been with her, and I will regret that for the rest of my life.
Last night she started having trouble breathing, and stopped eating altogether. This afternoon my brother took the hit for us – he brought her to the vet.
I am – almost – cried out now. At least until I turn out the light and try to sleep.
I might not do that for a while.
God, I really hate this year.