R.I.P Daisy

My sweet beagle died over the weekend. We got her about nine years ago from a family that had saved her from the dog pound (and certain death). She had the sweetest temperament that I’ve ever known in a dog, but she had some habits that annoyed some people (and that’s probably why she was placed in the pound). She loved dirt. LOVED IT. I’d bathe her, and next thing she’d do is run outside and roll around in the grass and dirt. Once I made the mistake of giving her a bone before a very soggy, rainy day (we have a lot of those in Upstate New York, these days), and she promptly went out and buried it, rain and mud notwithstanding.

She had a strong beagle instinct, and wanted to smell like the outdoors, so she could chase rabbits and cats. Unfortunately, she never got her wish to chase rabbits (although she did chase our cats on occasion)– we had to keep her tethered because we live on a busy street. Sometimes she would get loose though (almost ALWAYS at very inconvenient times!) but a kindly neighbor would catch her. She made friends wherever she went– the neighbors almost seemed happy to re-catch her after a escapade, and said, “Goodbye, Daisy!” when I took her back.

As a puppy, some previous owner had Daisy’s vocal cords removed. So she couldn’t bark. When the FedEx guy or UPS guy or mailman would come to the back door to deliver a package, she would raise her head and open her mouth to howl, but nothing would come out. The UPS man said to me, “I know she’s trying to say something, but I can’t figure it out!” He loved her. He would bring biscuits for her and pat her on the head when he came to deliver a package. She never bit anyone, ever. She loved everyone.

She also loved food, glorious food! Before she was old and sick, she would bounce up and down and scratch you on the legs to get to the food dish you carried for her. It took her a loooooong time to learn “Sit, Daisy!” She was a stubborn thing– when she didn’t want to do something, she didn’t do it. But she eventually learned to “sit,” and I was able to stop patching holes in our pants. Still, when she saw the food dish coming, she would hop and whirl around. It was really entertaining. We called it her “Chow Time Jig.” Boy, she was funny.

She stopped her Chow Time Jig about a year and half ago. Arthritis had set in, and she never got loose anymore. Then, her kidneys gave out.

We buried her in the backyard, under the spruce tree at the property line. That’s where the rabbits hide, in the tall grasses beyond the tree. We thought she’d like it back there. I was never much of a “dog person,” but Daisy was special. I didn’t realize how many millions of times I checked on her throughout the day, peeking through the windows to make sure she was there, and seeing her contentedly snoozing in the sunshine in the clover patch, until she was gone. I can’t seem to break the habit– I’m still looking out the window for her, dozens of times every day. I have yet to break the news to the UPS man. I don’t think I’ll order anything online for awhile, until I can tell him while keeping my composure.

Rest in peace, Daisy.