# Rest now, Daisy dog.



## Rosiemum (Jan 14, 2010)

Daisy, my beautiful girl, put to sleep about a month ago.

I went to Discover Dogs at Crufts seventeen years ago, where I was introduced to the Lancashire Heelers and immediately fell hopelessly and permanently in love. A few months later, I became the proud owner of my very own Ormskirk Terrier (the other name for the breed).

She wasn't the easiest of puppies, slow to toilet train and picky to feed - a lot of her meals back then consisted of a can of tuna and a soft boiled egg - until her eating gained momentum and she never looked back. 

She had a pedigree (proper name Fluorene Flora), but she was never destined to be a show dog. Put her on a table in a ring and she immediately went into a decline; her head went down, her tail disappeared between her legs, and her whole demeanor shouted "DON'T TOUCH ME!!" She was exclusively a companion. My companion. We had other dogs in the family, but she was mine.

She had a pretty good life. She shared holidays in Scotland, swimming in Loch Shin and climbing hills behind our cottage, and boating holidays on the Norfolk Broads, which she loved because we were all so close together all the time; she spent weeks camping with us, when she would sleep inside my sleeping bag with me, curled up against my stomach. She made a wonderful hot water bottle that never went cold, and only leaked very rarely...

She loved me unreservedly and totally. She'd happily spend time with other people, but as soon as she saw me, my little sticky dog was on my lap or wedged between my thigh and the arm of the chair. It was wonderful to come home from a rubbish day and have her greet me with such genuine joy.

Three years ago, she was diagnosed with heart failure and a throat condition, but once her medication was sorted out you would never have known. Right up until a few months ago she was still bright and cheerful and enjoyed her walks, and still very much her old self - just black and grey instead of black and tan.

But she couldn't go on forever, however much I would have given to make it possible, and over the course of a couple of weeks she had a series of small strokes, and each one left her a little weaker, a little more unsteady, a little more confused...she'd had such a happy, active life, to see her becoming a shadow of my Daisy broke my heart. I couldn't let her end her days as a small, frail invalid, uncertain of where she was and unable to see very much - although she still cheered up when she knew I was near. 

We made her last day as nice as we could, She had all her favourite things to eat, even if they were things that aren't good for dogs, and lots of fuss from lots of people, and when the moment we'd been dreading finally came, she fell asleep so peacefully, with a piece of salami still in her mouth. She was ready to go.

Still, sixteen and a half years for a pedigree dog in heart failure ain't bad, is it?

Sleep well, my beautiful girl.


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## Nicquita (Mar 14, 2009)

This is really touching. Sixteen and a half is definitely not an age to scoff at, that's a wonderful age for a dog. She was clearly very lucky to be a part of your family. Though I always fervently believe that we're the lucky ones to have such wonderful companions, I think you deserve a lot of respect for that. I've very rarely come across dogs that have spent their entire lives with one family

I'm really sorry for your loss. It doesn't matter how old they are, or whether you're expecting it. It always hurts just the same


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## Rosiemum (Jan 14, 2010)

Thankyou so much, Nicquita. I'm glad you liked what I wrote, and thankyou for understanding. I was actually inspired to write her an obituary by your lovely post about little Echo.

You're quite right, though - however prepared you think you are for it, it's still like being hit by a juggernaut when it comes, isn't t?


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## Nicquita (Mar 14, 2009)

Rosiemum said:


> Thankyou so much, Nicquita. I'm glad you liked what I wrote, and thankyou for understanding. I was actually inspired to write her an obituary by your lovely post about little Echo.
> 
> You're quite right, though - however prepared you think you are for it, it's still like being hit by a juggernaut when it comes, isn't t?


I'm so glad  There are so many posts celebrating pets on here, but I personally thought that it may help to actually write about Echo and everything that she meant to me. It seems far more fitting than just telling her to rest in peace, you know? It's also nice to be able to share with the world how special our little guys are.

I seem to have trouble accepting that things may pass away. I spend my time arguing it until it finally happens, and I'm not prepared at all


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