If you follow this blog at all, you'll know I've had a very hard time posting since we lost Loretta. It's hard to explain, because we've had dogs since February 1974 - our first, Schatze, a rough coat collie, came to live with us less than two months into our married lives - and so we've had over the last 37 years what sometimes seems more than our share of good-byes. But Loretta was just special, and her death was so untimely.
We lost Loretta in November 2009, and we lost Daisy in November 2010. It was different with Daisy, though. She was 13 - a remarkable age for a golden retriever, an astonishing age in "big dog" land. Tony always called her our "two-fer." We contracted for Loretta before she was even born, and the breeder let us visit the litter about 3 weeks after they were born. So, we didn't even know who Loretta was yet, in a matter of speaking! When we visited at 4 weeks, Daisy had been returned to the breeder (per a contract that puppy purchasers must sign) because her owners didn't want her anymore. They were childless, got a designer dog because they couldn't get pregnant, got pregnant and then didn't want the dog. Daisy was 4 1/2 years old, and in critical health - basically, she'd been neglected physically, and worse in golden retriever land had been neglected emotionally. Tony and I said we wanted her, and the breeder said that she didn't think Daisy would live, but if her health turned around she was ours. So, two weeks before we were able to bring Loretta home, Daisy came home, too.
It took almost two years to turn Daisy around. She would do all the "good dog" things she was supposed to - ask to go outside, come when called, etc. But she had absolutely no joy. And then, all of a sudden - she came to life! She romped, played, barked, and generally became a no-good, worthless, rotten dog in the best tradition of such. She knew she was ours, and more importantly that we belonged to her. Every day after that was pure joy. Her physical health never compltely recovered - she had to stay on thyroid medication, and at about the time she emotionally recovered she got mast-cell cancer. We had a couple of tumors removed, but when she was about 10 one came on her side that was bascially too large to remove without a very difficult recovery, so we opted to leave well enough alone. And she lived another 6 or 7 happy years, so we did the right thing.
Every dog we've ever had has taught me something. Daisy taught me that it's perfectly okay to be silly, and that maybe there always is a warm bed, good food, people who love you, and most importantly, a way home.
