2002-05-27-10:53 a.m.

We got Daisy when she was a tiny pup. Daniel was a tiny pup, too. Daisy hid under his car seat while we drove home. That was almost twelve years ago.

We got Daisy because I saw a snake in the yard. My girls were outside playing and I looked out the window and there was a snake curled up right there by them. I called to the girls to come in and I thought to myself, that's it, we're getting a dog.

She's a yellow lab, the perfect kid dog, somebody told me. She isn't one of those laid back kinds of labs. She's the hyper kind. She always jumped up on me when I went out in the backyard and licked me all over and she didn't just wag her tail, she wagged her whole bottom. She has a pointy head instead of a boxy-shaped head. When she was young her coat was orangey-yellow.

Daisy has perfect manners, except for all the licking and wagging and jumping. She will never come in the house. She won't even try. One time it was very, very cold outside and we wanted her to come in, but she wouldn't. We had to drag her in and make her lie down by the fireplace. She was uncomfortable and nervous the whole time. She knew she wasn't supposed to be in here.

She won't eat if anyone is watching her. You can put her food in front of her and stand there and she won't even touch it, won't even look at it as long as you're there. But as soon as you leave she dives in. I have to hide to see her do that.

She's not eating at all anymore. She's dying. She's lying out there on the porch in front of one of the sliding glass doors and she's old and she's dying. She's in the same place where she lay down when she was a puppy so five-year-old Abby could put barrettes all over her fur. I wish I had taken a picture that day, but I was mad at Abby for putting all her hair things on the dog and I didn't think about doing that. I do have pictures in my head, though.

I have pictures of Daisy going along with us on bike rides around the two-mile circle, her nails clicking on the street as she runs alongside Stan's bike and darts out in front of me, making me swerve to keep from hitting her. I can see her tongue hanging out because she's so tired, but she loves this, running along with her whole family.

Every time I'd walk back to the house from the garden, there Daisy would be. She'd throw herself on her back and flail her arms and legs so I'd scratch her tummy and tell her what a good girl she was.

She loved it when the kids would play outside. She was always right in the middle of everything. She did bark at a snake once, but that's not why we love her.

She had two batches of puppies and they were all perfect and beautiful and Daisy was such a good mother. She was very gentle with the children, though, and let them pick her babies up and carry them around as much as they wanted. Daisy's babies and my babies came along at the same time. I'd tell her how beautiful hers were and then I'd let her lick the toes of baby Becky or Benjamin or Andrew. She seemed to understand that we had something in common. Somehwere along the line Daisy went from being just a dog to being my friend, my equal, my confidante, and I would go out there when nothing was going my way and tell her everything. She was a good listener.

I wish she wasn't dying. Dogs are the best of any animal and they live such short lives. I'm mad at God about that. I'm mad that people are so dumb that they think five-year-old girls will stay five forever and that dogs will live forever and always be getting in your way wanting you to scratch their bellies. I wish Daisy would do that, get right in my way and practically trip me just one more time.

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