Daisy came to us as a breath of fresh air, as most puppies do.
We were not in the market for a puppy. At all.
It was late December when Heather met Daisy and texted me, “Need another heeler pup?” I guess I could have taken a little more time before replying, “No.” Which was the clear answer. But the pictures kept coming with messages like, “I want this baby.”
An initial trip to a local vet and search for where she came from brought up no owners and a likely Australian Cattle Dog (Blue Heeler)/Australian Shepherd mix, otherwise known as a Texas Heeler. Eventually, we did find out where she came from, and those people said that she was an Ausie/German Shepherd mix. We weren’t convinced. But I’m not sure it would have mattered anyway. She was ours either way. Or we were hers.
(Update: It now seems clear that she is Ausie/Catahoula.)
I was just about to start on a sabbatical when Daisy came. She was taking to her lessons like one of us was a pro. Hint: It wasn’t me. A few days later, I got sick. It started as a sinus infection that wouldn’t go away. Things were worse a week later. It was a perfect recipe for anxiety and depression. And I’m not immune. Stepping away from ministry activities was good, but hard. Questions of worth, value, and even neededness are a constant play in the mind. Add not feeling like getting out of bed for days at a time. But God is good and eventually the clouds parted. And there was Daisy. Doing pup things. Pulling me out of myself. And suggesting something more. Perhaps even hope.
I don’t mean the definition of hope that is associated with God’s promises. That kind of hope sure. But, rather, I mean the more common use of the word hope. Like a lifting eagerness. An imagined, wished for future. Fresh. Curious. Excited. Eager (having or showing keen interest or intense desire or impatient expectancy.) Eager anticipation for right now. Full of promise. Full of possibility. A living fully right now. Trust. Spunk. Beauty. Abundance. (I was feeling compressed. Useless. Trapped.) Optimism. Those are some of the words or thoughts that seemed to be embodied in this new addition to our family.
The next few months passed like a blur. Daisy assumed the job of exploring everything and pestering our old heeler, Baker. Pure puppy. Pure optimism. Pure trust. There are only a few non-negotiables in my book on dogs. The first is recall. When I say “come,” I mean now. The second is stay. And the third is when we have to go somewhere that expects/requires a lead, I have no patience for being pulled around. It’s a lead. I lead, not her. Just like a horse. Imagine if horses behaved on a lead like many dogs you see. Yipes.
She took to her lessons like we knew what we were doing. Which we didn’t. But after a couple of weeks, she was solid on “stay” and “come,” and walking well on the lead. Daisy’s future seemed full of only promise and perfection.
That was what was in my mind on Easter morning. Promise and perfection. And that afternoon after church with kids and dogs playing outside was no different. I saw it as it was happening through the back glass door. A terrible accident. No one to blame unless it’s me. I saw it coming and wasn’t able to get across the room to stop it. If I would have been outside, or brought her in when I came in to fix another cup of coffee, or been a step closer to the door, I might have been able to stop the accident that left our puppy with broken bones in her face and a ruptured eye. That’s the physical part. It was touch and go for several weeks, but dogs are pretty tough and Daisy has recovered well. She won’t regain sight in that eye, but we’re still hopeful that she will be able to keep it. But accidents can also leave psychological wounds, in dogs as well as people.
The accident was two and a half months ago. And though we still have a long way to go, Daisy has come a long way. She’s still growing a bunch. So she spends a good bit of time sleeping, as you can see in the photos below. We’re working on staying for a long time and out of site. And recall from a whistle, because the sound carries much further than a voice. She still falls asleep on our bed most nights and has to be coaxed to her kennel. (And don’t tell anyone but when Heather was away for her summer assignment, Daisy slept all night on the bed with me a time or two.)
So there you have it. Daisy’s 8 month report. Until next time…
