Tuesday, June 7, 2011


Hey all! I'm Sarah and Amanda has been gracious enough to let me do a guest post for her. I hope you like it. :)

I distinctly remember a few moments from my childhood. I remember when I got my first Harry Potter book, I remember when I fell off my bicycle and my knees bled for hours, I remember when I spent endless summer days at my neighborhood park as a child, the green grass tickling my toes. But one moment sticks out among all the rest: the moment when the I knew my first dog, Daisy, was home. You see, my mother and I picked out Daisy on a school night and my mom was going to pick her up at 11 the next morning. I distinctly remember watching the hands of the clock on my classroom wall slowly creeping towards 11 and when they finally reached their destination, I knew my Daisy was home.
Daisy was a mutt. We got her for $20 from a nice old couple, who’s dog had got it on with the boy dog next store. She was a sweet girl from the very beginning: loving, loyal, and fiercely protective of her family. She was my best friend. Daisy was happy to see me every time I walked through my front door. She never judged or questioned me, she never said she was disappointed in anything that I did. As a dog, she was capable of doing the one thing that humans cannot do: love purely, unconditionally, and without restraint. I spent countless hours in my backyard training her to sit, lay-down, shake, and speak. (In retrospect, who really wants their dog to speak?) Daisy sat next to me on my bedroom floor and listened to me cry when no one else would, she sat next to me and listened to me talk when my words were to much for others to stand.
After 14 ½ years, we put Daisy to sleep. It was one of the worst days of my life. Take what you felt after watching Marley & Me and combine it with what you imagine it feels like to be shot. It felt almost like that. Daisy’s kidneys had finally given out and we knew it was her time to go. I said my goodbyes to my puppy after I found her laying behind my garage, breathing heavily and clearly in pain. I literally lay down in the grass next to her and she listened to me cry for one last time. The next day, we took her to the vet and stayed with her to the very end. I took her purple collar off after she was gone and hung it over the rear-view mirror of my car. It’s still there today.
They say that if you have one true friend in life, you should consider yourself blessed. I am so beyond blessed that Daisy was with me for over 14 years. The companionship and love a dog can provide is like nothing that you will ever experience. It’s a true testament to the fact that there is something bigger than all of us in this world and we should constantly be striving to find it.
Every once in a while, I go to the memorial my dad set up for Daisy. It’s nothing special: just a rock with her name on it and a few daisies in our backyard. I think about how lucky I was to have her in my life and about how much she’s taught me. To this day and for the rest of my life, I know that she’s around somewhere. She’s not here anymore, but she did what I believe she was put on this earth to do: bring a little girl up to believe in life, love, compassion, and unconditional acceptance.

For now,


1 comment:

  1. Awww great post Sarah, and thanks for doing it! I agree that a dog's love is a special kind of love and nothing can replace it, but the hardest part of having one is having to let go.


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