My dearest Daisy died this weekend…the only dog I ever had and I’m pretty sure the only one to ever pee on me. I knew something like this would be hard, but I don’t think I really knew the gravity of it. And I don’t think I knew how hard it would be not to get to say goodbye.
Daisy was the family dog but more than anything else she was Sawyer’s dog. She watched baseball with him, ate his sandwiches, slept with him on the couch…I told James the other day that Sawyer had three best friends – Henry, me, and the dog. And I think the worst part of not being home is that I can’t throw my arms around my baby brother right now. Because I would really like to do that.
But during this dark weekend I think I realized how blessed I am to have such a beautiful support system here. I knew who to call. I knew who to turn to. I knew who would throw their arms around me and kiss my forehead or watch Ryan Gosling movies with me or understand what was going on when I called sobbing and no words came out or take my brother out to frozen yogurt because I couldn’t. I knew that I was going to be taken care of.
And I hate that it took me something tragic for me to really see, but I realize how good I have it here. And how lucky I am that my friends don’t think I’m crazy when I sob into the phone during the superbowl or cry in the library or need to be held for a little while. And from literally all over the world, my friends listen to my word vomit and read my long, disjointed rants and they make me feel loved.
Just like Daisy did when I’d come home and she’d lick my shoes and pee on the floor. I remember in high school when I got dumped, I sat in a puddle of angsty tears and Ben and Jerry’s and Daisy leaped onto the couch – graceful as ever – and licked the tears off my face. She knew. She was smart. And she wouldn’t leave your side until she knew you were okay. That’s just the kind of gal she was.
Daisy was the best dog anyone could have ever asked for. She was the best kind of friend anyone could ever ask for. And I’m glad I got to spend eight years with her. I’ve never believed in heaven, but I’d like to think that Daisy’s in the midst of one of those really good dreams – you know the kind that right before you get to the best part you wake up? Yeah. I hope she’s in one of those, but I hope she gets to the best part.
Love ya, Dais. Rest easy. Don’t eat too many bees. Thanks for being a kickass friend.
And thank all of you for being kickass friends. And for holding me up when I’m falling apart. I’m so, so lucky.