???With those eyes???  

By Bob Perks

     I could see it in her eyes.
     She knew there was a problem, something wrong that we just couldn't
fix.  But she trusted me.  She had to.  But she didn't have to like it.
     I've written about Daisy before.  For those of you who may not know,
Daisy is my Old English Sheep Dog.  I stress the word "Old."
     She has been a part of the family for more than a decade.  We adopted
Daisy from the S.P.C.A. when she was about three years old, the very first
day we moved into our house.  I mean the very first day.  The furniture
wasn't even in place and the boxes were still packed.  It was Super Bowl
Sunday and I was determined to finally have a dog.  You get a house, you
get a dog.
     What a dog she has been.
     She had a spirit of independence.  Which simply put, meant that you
left her alone when she didn't want to be bothered.  If she didn't want to
play, she ignored you.  She loved to run, jump and bark whenever we went
sledding in our backyard.  She could out run you in an open field but never
let you out of her sight.  Even in our home.  If you went upstairs so did
she.  If one person was up and the other downstairs, she sat at the top of
the stairs to keep an eye on both.
     But she is old now.  She doesn't run and jump any more.  She doesn't
bark much at all.  She sleeps so much that we need to stop to check her
breathing.
     I'll be honest with you.  I'm hoping to find her not breathing one
day.  The alternative is tearing my heart out.
     Daisy's arthritis is starting to take its toll.  We spend $50 a month
on pills for her to ease her pain and keep her heart pumping.  Today, I had
to lift her into and out of the car to get her to the doctor's office.
     She stumbles a lot, falls when she tries to jump down off the couch
and in a moment that pains me and yet is so wonderfully beautiful, she
looks at me with those eyes and begs for help.
     She will attempt to jump up on the couch and only manage to get her
front half up.  Laying part way on the couch she turns her half-cocked head
back toward me and sighs.  Those eyes say, "Come on.  Don't make me beg
you.  Help me."
     As soon as I get behind her, she braces herself and together we manage
to finish the task.  Usually she stays in the exact spot she falls into and
once again sighs.  This is tough stuff when you're more than 14 years old.
     Her breathing is heavy at times, to a point of distraction when I am
working or reading.  The heavy panting is loud and continuous but I keep
reminding myself that the silence will one day be even more difficult to
bear.
     She is unable at times to hold it when she needs to go out and our
back door area needs to be covered in heavy plastic because of it.
     All of this prompted me to ask Doc if I would ever have to make the
decision to put her to sleep.  He replied, "When she can't stand any more
and she is messing up the house.  The arthritis affects the nerves and will
prevent her from functioning properly."
     I sighed this time as she stood on the examining table and looked at
me with those eyes.
     I don't know if this is fair or not.  Perhaps some of you might find
this all foolish and maybe even sinful, but I pray to God about her.  I
know God has more important things to take care of, but I've been asking
Him to let her die in her sleep because I can't do it.
     At this very moment tears are streaming down my face even writing
about it.  Oh, I know I would if I had to, for her sake.  But she's sitting
right outside my door at the top of the stairs.  Yes, my wife is downstairs
and I am here and she's looking at me with those eyes.
     She knows that something's wrong.
     "God, I'll clean up after her and I'll lift her up onto the couch.
I'll even carry her up the stairs if I must.  But You tell her that our
time together is coming to an end.  You're the One who created her... with
those eyes."

???Daisy Scent???

by Bob Perks

     I look for signs and wonders in everyday life to confirm that I'm on
the right path.  God sends me people to tell me, show me, or guide me along
the way.  That's how I write these stories.  They are about those people.
     But today, I write about my dog Daisy.
     We have had her in our lives for about a dozen years.  Every second of
every day of those wonderful years were precious gifts to us.  Daisy was
approaching approximately 15 years of age.  Her appetite was excellent but
her body was giving way.  I can relate to that sometimes.
     A short while ago I wrote a story about her, which was included in the
new Petwarmers Pet Tales CD.  It was called "In Her Eyes."  It was all
perfect timing.  The day my copy of the CD arrived, Daisy had begun having
some serious set backs.  Until that day, she managed to get around quite
nicely considering her arthritis was worsening.  We kept her on her daily
medication and her doctor felt she was doing just fine.
     This past week I began to see signs of her failing health.  I called
the vet and they told me what to watch for, but explained ultimately that
the decision to put Daisy to sleep was all mine.  Marianne and I had a
conversation about this just last week.
     "Hon, do you want me to tell you when the day has come for Daisy, so
you can say your goodbyes?" I asked.
     "Honey, I have said goodbye to her a thousand times already.  I know
what lies ahead," she told me.
     "So you don't want me to tell you?" I asked.
     "No."
     I prayed a few days ago for one of those magnificent signs from God to
let me know Daisy needed to go home.  I waited.  Nothing.
     That is until last night.
     Through the years, every time Marianne and I went away for a few days,
we would take Daisy to this incredible farm where she was loved and cared
for while we were gone.  The first day we went there, the owner told me
that to make Daisy more comfortable while we were gone, one of us should
wear an old t-shirt for a few days and bring it in with her.  The scent
left on the clothing would keep her comfortable and keep us not too far
from her memory.
     Daisy sleeps on a dog mattress next to our bed every night.  The
mattress is located on Marianne's side, so Daisy always slept there.
     Except for last night.  It was the oddest thing.  Just as we climbed
into bed, Daisy came over to my side and laid down on the floor.  She never
did that before.  She was panting a little so I petted her for awhile,
expecting that she would go to her bed as soon as I stopped.
     She didn't.  She stayed there all night, never moving even when I got
up a few times.  I would return and there she was sleeping.
     The reason I find this all so fascinating is, she slept on my t-shirt
that I always have lying on the floor.  She curled up and made a bed out of
it.
     This morning she woke up and could not walk.  I carried her downstairs
and outside.  She really struggled to go and had difficulty standing up to
eat.
     Marianne went off to work.
     At 10am, I called the vet and could barely speak.  The assistant
waited patiently for me to say something.  She knew why I was calling.
     "Bring her in at 2pm," she said.
     I cried so hard when I hung up I could hardly stand.  I held her in my
arms and we sat there.
     Some of you may not like this part.  I don't care.
     Daisy and I had a party today.  She always loved the crust from pizza
we ate.  Today I ordered a pizza, bought a McDonalds Quarter Pounder with
cheese, no condiments, and we sat on the floor together.  I opened the
pizza box and let her eat what she wanted.  She then ate the burger and I
followed it up with a small dish of vanilla ice cream.
     She loved it.  So did I.
     As I write this, Marianne doesn't know about Daisy.  I bought flowers
for her and placed Daisy's picture next to it on the kitchen table.  Yes,
Daisies.
     Tonight we will hold each other and cry.  Oh yes, we will hold that
old t-shirt to remember her -- it is Daisy scent!

 Bob Perks    

The stories are copyrighted and cannot be used without permission.