(Written early February 2024. Things are very different now!)

It’s been a little over two months since my sweet, funny, 17 year old companion dog, Daisy, passed.  

The grief is still fresh and so heavy. I have a slideshow of Daisy photos that runs on my computer monitor all day. I often just sit and watch the show. It makes me smile and remember all the good times. But I am randomly caught off guard sometimes, and I am brought to my knees, wailing, in tears. 

Her absence is so deafening to me. It’s unbearable at times. There are no sounds of her sighing in her sleep, and shaking her head so that her ears make a flapping sound. No sound of her little feet creaking the wooden floor as she walked up and down the hallways. No clickety-clack of the toenails on the kitchen linoleum floor. I am so unsettled not seeing her lie on her day bed and blankets, or sitting atop a pile of pillows on the couch. I printed a few 8×10 photos of her sleeping and placed them near her daytime napping and nighttime sleeping spots. When I sit on the couch I make sure that the sweater she used to wear is lying, curled up next to me just the way she would. Her laying right up next to me were her hugs.
I try to fill my time with personal projects like sorting through “stuff” and selling or giving that “stuff” away. I also now have writing to keep me occupied some of the time.

Relaxing time is now more like anxiety time. I’m too tired to do any more personal projects, or writing or talking once the evening comes around. I am literally bored to tears because sitting alone on the couch to watch a show is no longer relaxing. There’s no dog to melt in my lap! I get anxious about being disconnected. My kids are in their rooms and my partner is usually at work. Since Daisy died, and when he is home, we usually play games to keep me occupied until it’s late enough that I feel I can call it a night and go to sleep. Sleep is a welcomed escape.
Daisy’s absence also brought into the light how much she was still doing her job as a service dog for me. In spite of her age, being mostly blind, and deaf in the last year of her life with my having Fibromyalgia she mainly made sure that I stopped, sat down, and rested regularly. She had some actions that were cues for me. Another way she helped me rest, when my kids were still young, is that she would watch over them and keep them company so I could have respite. A little bit like Nana in Peter Pan.
As years passed and I started feeling good enough to start doing volunteer work, I think Daisy was a bit disappointed because I wasn’t always responding to her “You must rest” cues. She also didn’t come with me when I went to my volunteer job. But she was never alone. There was always at least one of her humans at home 98% of the time.
In 2019 and 2020, mostly due to Covid, my busy-ness ended and I was home pretty much all the time. As bad as all the Covid mayhem was, it was a blessing to be able to be at home with Daisy all the time. At this point, Daisy was about 14, already an old lady, but still acted like a puppy at times. Like when she had her afternoon “zoomies” up and down the hallway for no apparent reason. All anyone could ever say was, “Who started the dog?!” I now know, in hindsight, that as content as Daisy was to lay around, sleep and snuggle, she actually started to prompt me to get up and move. More often than informing me it was time to rest. She started doing this in Spring of 2019, before I got my official Parkinson’s(PD) diagnosis. Actually, before I even started seeing the neurologist. Doctor Daisy must have known.
As the last 5 years have gone by, Daisy has reflected a lot of what was happening with my health since the PD was confirmed. Essentially, we were both slowing down a lot. Walking became difficult. For me it was balance and slowness, for her it was cataracts and also a slower pace. When I started taking meds for my PD, she often reminded me it was pill time because she’d get up and stand by me to say “Snack time for me…time for you to get moving.” I would check the clock and wonder of wonders, it was time for me to dose again.
It has been very difficult for me to remember to take my meds on time since she’s been gone. I have all sorts of timers on my phone, but nothing works like a dog telling you to do something now!
I keep listening for her. Waiting for her to come ask me for supper or snacks. I keep looking for her in her usual spots. She liked to look out the windows and through the sides of the deck. Most of the time she did this because one or more of her humans were out of the house and she was looking for them to return. When we were all home I think  she just liked to smell the air and look for dogs walking past the house. That is, when she could still see well enough.
Ahhh, Daisy. You were such a patient companion for the whole family, easy going and a great teacher of enjoying life’s simple experiences. Though my PD symptoms are harder to live with in your absence and that absence leaves such a huge void in my daily life, you’ve filled my heart so much that there will always be a reserve of memories, and unconditional love.

The resources available to our family after Daisy died were very helpful. The vet clinic as well as the local Humane Society run pet loss groups which we have attended. The groups are run by very caring and knowledgeable therapists. Sharing the pain of this kind of loss with others is a very powerful tool for healing.
If you’ve experienced a recent loss, reach out to your vet or local shelter for referrals to a support group.