Her behavior had been changing, and it worried me.  

I often had thought of our dog, Daisy, as a ‘cat dog’.  She loved us when food or walks were offered.  She loved a belly rub.  But otherwise, she loved us when she felt like it.  

Greeting us in the morning….greeting as we came in the door, were optional in her mind.  She expressed her connection to us when she wanted to.  Dog stereotypes be damned!

But then things started to change.  She jumped a gate in our house that was there to keep her from going upstairs to the 2nd floor.  It was the middle of the night, and she had never jumped it before.  For a dog that has had arthritis since she was a puppy….this was unexpected.  

She started to come over to me, frequently putting her head on my lap and staring at me.  Another new behavior.  

Other subtle changes occurred and I started to wonder and worry.  What was going on?  

She had always loved to be outside.  Sometimes getting her to come in from the outside could be a hassle.  She was happiest when she could roll around in grass or mud or just lay in the sun.  But then that changed too.  She started to sit on the cement walkway, looking in at the house.  She swapped sleeping on the grass for sleeping on the porch and oddly wanted to be inside more than out.

What was going on?

I took her to the vet.  An exam was performed. The diagnosis was anxiety and medication was prescribed.  I questioned this diagnosis.  It didn’t make sense to me.  Sudden onset anxiety?  Why?  What would have triggered it?  The vet had no answers but seemed confident in her assessment.  When I continued to press for answers, she told me that Daisy was now a senior dog and perhaps there was some dementia involved.  

We began the meds.  She jumped the gate again.   I watched her every move and knew she wasn’t feeling right. I spoke with the vet again; she thought her behaviors were still consistent with anxiety.

And then she jumped the gate a third time.  Desperately she needed to be with us.  It was the middle of the night. My husband and I came downstairs and sat with her, but she couldn’t settle.  She was panting heavily.  

As the night turned into day, I called the vet.  She thought it was a reaction to the meds that Daisy had been using for anxiety.  I told her that didn’t make sense.  She had taken the same medication for arthritis pain in the past without any trouble.  The doctor suggested I stop the meds.  But the behaviors the doctor attributed to the medication were the same behaviors she had before the pain meds…only now they were worse.  Her advice didn’t sit right with me.  Clearly, I could not rely on her to figure this out.

After several hours of struggling with what to do, I called a local animal hospital.  We brought her in, and with a simple rectal exam, they discovered the problem.  

There was a mass.  An ultrasound revealed that it was quite large.  It encircled her spleen and pelvic area.  Hemangiosarcoma was suspected.  They sedated her to do a needle aspiration.  They tried multiple times, but the needle was filled with blood each time it came out.  This didn’t bode well. It meant blood vessels were involved providing this mass with an unlimited food supply.

The news was jarring.  I knew something was wrong with her.  I knew the original vet was wrong in her assessment.  But cancer?  

We’ve had Daisy since she was 8 weeks old.  We picked her over all the other adorable puppies online.  Other than arthritis, she has been an exceptionally healthy dog.  She’s only 8 years old.  We’ve never lost a dog that young.  

Yet here we were.  

More surprising than hearing she had cancer was hearing the time frame of her impending death.  Maybe a month?  Given the type of cancer suspected, the real threat would be how she might die.  The mass could rupture at any time, causing massive internal bleeding.  

We could try to get a month more with her.  They gave us medication to help her with the pain.  We began the meds.  But the huffing to try and get enough air, panting from pain, and staying close to us continued and worsened….she was clearly uncomfortable.  If you didn’t know what was happening, you might think she looked healthy and strong.  Her tail would wag briefly if a favorite person walked into the room.  But we were tasked to look beyond the disguise, beyond what our hearts wanted to see.  

She had behaved like TV’s Lassie.  She climbed mountains and forded streams (in the form of jumping a gate!)  to let us know she needed help.  

Taking her to the hospital wasn’t enough.  Giving her pain meds wasn’t enough. We had to love her enough to let her go.   

Our other dog, Romeo, has been fighting a terminal disease for a year and a half.  Knowing he has so little time left with us has been breaking my heart every single day.  Yet he’s still here!  Getting worse, but holding on.

I never anticipated that Daisy would go first.  She was four years younger than Romeo and outwardly seemed strong and healthy.  Yet here we were. 

Because of her independent spirit, I don’t think I fully realized how strongly  I felt about Daisy until it was time to let her go.  I have been mourning Romeo’s impending death for 18 months.  With Daisy, there was one month of mysterious symptoms and less than three days to say goodbye.  While I had been bracing for Romeo’s death, Daisy’s sneaked in.  

With Daisy around, I always felt safe.  She never had to come to my rescue, but I was confident she wouldn’t hesitate if I needed her.  With her shepherd-like bark, she sounded menacing.  If you were a small animal, she was deadly.  But to us, she was just Daisy.  A fur shedding machine who loved being outside just as much as she loved rotisserie chicken and new smells.  She was the first female dog we ever had. 

She was our girl.  Our sweet Daisy, and we will miss her. 

RIP Daisy:  also affectionately known as….. Dazer Tazer, Daisy Crockett, Do a little dollop of Daisy, Daisy Dukes and Daisy Girl.   

June 3, 2015 – July 1, 2023