"He is your friend, your partner, your defender, your dog. You are his life, his love, his leader. He will be yours, faithful and true, to the last beat of his heart. You owe it to him to be worthy of such devotion."—Unknown

Nov 10, 2015

The weekend away was great but I was so happy to be welcomed home by those waiting for me when I drove up – Em, Ethan, Phil and Daisy. I missed Daisy especially – I had been coming home on my lunches to check on her during the week and this was the longest I had been away from her in a while. She seemed very happy to see me. Her tail was wagging and I had momentary relief that she was still doing ok. 

I wish I could say that my happy homecoming lasted, but sadly it was short lived.

After the kids were in bed and we were upstairs in our room we noticed Daisy’s breathing sounded labored. Daisy was panting, as well as not putting her head down while laying on her dog bed. I was concerned.

The cancer in Daisy’s head caused a bump to form on her “eye brow” bone (which had been growing slowly) and another smaller bump one on her head (both in the bone). In the last few months the vet thought the cancer was eating away at the bone, and had perhaps compromised her nasal passage in recent weeks. The vet had warned us that eventually one side of her nostril would likely be blocked, and then slowly the other side, until she could no longer breathe from her nose. Should that happen, sleeping would be difficult- if not impossible. Her hind legs were also slowly giving out on her. We had carpets all over our hardwood floor so she did not slip (because then it was almost impossible for her to get back up on hardwood) She also needed help to get up from time to time, especially when she was tired, or had overused her legs (she still would get bursts of energy and go tearing around the back yard – but would pay for it later)

Our mission from the time she was diagnosed was to maintain her quality of life. We would not have our loyal companion suffer for our sakes. We had already talked to the kids a few weeks before to prepare them for Daisy’s eventual parting. That was not a fun talk to say the least. Emily cried – a lot. Ethan comforted Emily but I don’t think he really understood what death meant.

 I got some pillows and put them beside Daisy thinking she could rest her head while keeping it  upright, while I tried to get some pain meds into her.

She wouldn’t eat the treat. With or without the pill. We tried cheese. Cookies. Meat. She just turned her nose away.

I think I knew then. But deep in my heart I hoped it was just another “down” of her ups and downs.

I tried everything I could to make her comfortable enough to sleep. But nothing worked. So I got a pillow and a blanket, and  laid down beside her and just pet her. For a long time. At some point the tears came.

I knew.

My baby was hurting. And she was suffering. And she deserved more than that.

At midnight Phil had dozed off and I woke him up and we both cried when I told him I was pretty sure it was time. I just didn’t want it to be in the middle of the night. I wanted us to spend one last day with her, if at all possible, so we could make it a great last day for her. I called the vet at 12:30 that night, and sobbed out my concerns. The vet echoed that it was time to think about what was best for Daisy, and to prepare ourselves. I was crying so hard I couldn’t even talk.

I eventually got the narcotic pain pill into her. With me laying by her side, a stack of pillows to keep her nasal passage from getting congested and me petting her and offering her whatever comfort I could, together we dozed on and off the rest of the night.

The next day we told the kids we were all staying home to have a family day. We kept Emily home from school. We told them that Daisy was in a lot of pain, and the time had come that she would be leaving us. Em cried again. Ethan was sad but still I don’t really think he got it.

And we had a great day. Daisy even ate a bit (but not a lot so it confirmed for us that it was time…) She got eggs and yummy toast for breakfast. We left some dog food in her bowl but she pretty much ate only people food that day (even if it was very little). We took her to Fish Creek, to her favorite spot, and let her run and play. She looked so happy. But her breathing was still labored and we knew she was no better than the night before, although I think the pain meds were helping ease the pain a bit so she could enjoy the day.

Before we went to the vet around supper time we stopped at Dairy queen and got Daisy her own vanilla cone. She LOVED that.  Then we dropped the kids at our dayhome, while we took Daisy down to the vet. Emily cried when we told them it was time to say goodbye. Ethan cried too as he pet her and gave her a final hug. That was really tough. I think Phil and I cried too.

I think making that decision is the hardest part of owning an animal, aside from watching them suffer. As we sat in the room waiting for the vet to come take Daisy’s pain away we just told her how much we loved her and pet her and sat close to her so she knew she wasn’t alone, and that we would be with her until the end. Phil was holding her head gently in his hands as she took her final breath, then was at peace.

We cried into her fur and in each others arms for a long time after, sitting in that room. I couldn’t bear to say goodbye. Our big goofy Ding Dong was now reunited with her pal Murphy over the Rainbow bridge, and we were left with red eyes and a hole in our hearts. When we picked up Ethan he actually asked “where’s Daisy?” When we gently explained, he tried to fight the tears and his silent tears tore at my heart. Phil wrapped his arms around him, I wrapped my arms around Em, and we all cried long and hard, while sitting in the driveway of our dayhome.

When we got home, the house now had a deafening silence which made her loss all the more difficult to bear.

In the almost 11 years we had Daisy, she was a loyal, funny, goofy companion who brought us so many laughs and filled our lives with joy. She was especially comforting to me when I went through treatment, and because of her I never felt alone even on the days I was alone at home. She was our first foster dog, our first foster “fail” (since we adopted her) and I think she rescued us just as much as we rescued her

“Man’s” best friend she certainly was.

What a good dog.