I don’t even know how to write this post. I suppose I don’t have to, but I’ve talked about Daisy so much on this blog — the “poodle” — who has been my constant companion for all these years. Daisy, who rode on motorcycles in Taiwan, walked on the Great Wall of China, sniffed the daffodils on the Charles River, and rode on my back in her little pack with so much happiness and curiosity about life at eye level with humans. She was born in Taiwan (she could speak three languages and had a Taiwanese passport), traveled to China via Bangkok (only Thai Airlines would allow her in Business Class), and then, after years of adventures there (she has a Chinese passport, too), came to the United States.
She had a great morning. A really lovely morning. We took her the West Baden Dome for a walk, and a group of sweet women pounced to ooo and ahh, and the sun was shining, and she had a nice nap on the couch.
And then she began to have trouble breathing. It was a terrible wheeze, a rapid unnatural pant. We took her to the vet. He thought it might be an allergic reaction, but ten minutes later her condition deteriorated so much, so dangerously, she needed oxygen.
X-Rays revealed a massive tumor in her chest, so large and insidious it had wrapped itself around her heart and was pushing on her lungs. It had slipped, the vet thought — slipped, and was pressing on her windpipe, choking her to death. No surgery could have saved her. And she really was suffocating, right before our eyes.
So, anyway, you know how the rest of this story goes.
It’s just that it happened so fast.
Daisy was a little star of love. Life won’t be the same without her.