Anyone who truly knows me, knows my dogs are my fur children. Until yesterday, I had three - Daisy Mae and Mitchell Thomas, two Miniature Schnauzers aged 12 and 10 (today is Mitchell's 10th birthday!), and a Boxer named Mac Macadoo, who is 5. We came back from vacation to not only a mountain of dirty laundry, but a very sick Daisy Mae. I looked at my beautiful little girl and saw death. My daughter had been caring for the three dogs while I was gone (without cell phone service) and reported that Daisy wouldn't eat anything, not her kibble or the boiled chicken she made. My daughter had tried everything, but without success. Daisy's spark had left her and my heart broke.
As soon as the vet's office opened, I called and took her in. They put her on IV fluids and ran bloodwork. Dr. Peek called me when he got the results. Daisy's organs were failing her. Her liver, her pancreas, and her kidneys. We had no choice but to put her to sleep. The other alternative was too grim - an excruitatingly painful death over the next few days. So we gave her the last gift we could and spared her from that.
My daughter left work and met us at the vet's. We all petted Daisy and loved on her and she licked each of our noses. And now she is gone and there is an empty place in our home.
Daisy on her daddy's recliner
Daisy with her broken leg (it healed very nicely)
Daisy catching some rays
Daisy being an elf at Christmas time
Daisy posing for the camera
And Daisy about to give one of her famous nose kisses
RIP, Sweet Girl. Daisy Mae, Munchie, Mucheta, Crazy Daisy. You will be missed.