Yesterday afternoon, my Daisy crossed the Rainbow Bridge.
I remember fondly, fifteen years ago, when I was considering adopting my very first dog, visiting the home of a foster family taking care of a trio of adorable German Shepherd three-month-olds. As I kneeled down to get an eye-level view of the pups, the female--a spindly and delicate, tan brindle girl--crawled under me for a reprieve from her larger, more rambunctious brothers. And like the guy who suddenly has the prettiest girl in the bar saying hello to him, I melted. I named her Daisy, after the character Daisy Buchanan of my favorite novel, The Great Gatsby.
She (along with her canine sister Sara) went to work with me every day thereafter and lied down at my feet at night when I was writing or watching TV. She was athletic and intelligent, and as friendly a dog to humans and canines as I've ever come across.
Over the past year or so, it pained me greatly to see age break down her body. Now, she has joined my beloved Sara in a place where the two of them can play and bark and run free. Love ya my little ‘Mookie’… I miss you dearly…