About this time last year, I quit a job I loved for a while bunch of reasons. Number one was a difficult boss who turned the majority of board members of the non-profit I worked for against me. Number two was the negative impact on my health and wellbeing the stress generated by that person was causing me. And number three was the lack of action the board took when I filed not one, but three complaints over as many months. On top of all that, I was required to attend an upcoming meeting out of town for three days, which would necessitate boarding my five dogs. One of those dogs was fifteen year old Daisy.

Daisy was a foster fail for me. Long story short, despite efforts to find Daisy a home, the right person never showed up, and eventually it was decided that I was the right person. Supposedly she was a black lab/golden retriever mix. She wasn’t that at all, but what she was I never knew. I do know she was an athletic, smart, and loyal worry wart. It took a while for us to bond, but once we did, she became a steadfast companion that never failed to keep me on track. She also never failed to inspire awe in me when she would run. She was a sleek running machine that floated over the earth.

She aged well, but was showing signs of anxiety and general old agedness as we entered 2024. I was concerned to leave her, so when I decided I needed to exit my job, I did so prior to that required annual meeting. It isn’t my habit to leave an organization “holding the bag” so to speak, but they had shown no loyalty to me, and Daisy had shown me well over a decade of loyalty, so home I stayed.

The first week I was home (the week of that meeting) I spent a lot of time with my dogs, especially Daisy. Having me home was exhausting to her because she followed my every move. I worked to spoil her as best I could.

On Sunday night, starting the second week of my new life, there was a clunk in the middle of the night and I woke to find Daisy on the floor. I gathered her up, but she was dazed. Having lost other senior dogs to unseen internal ruptures, I deduced that this was likely what was happening and to make a 45 minute drive to the emergency vet at 2AM was not going to change the outcome. I created a nest on the floor for the two of us and I held her the rest of the night, feeling she would likely be gone in the morning.

When the sun rose that day, so did Daisy! She acted like all was well. I took her to the vet. No issues were found, so we came home and all seemed fine. Over the course of the week, she declined. One minute normal, the next not herself. By Friday, she was done and I called the vet one last time. Daisy passed peacefully with assistance later that morning. The final assessment was that she likely had a fast growing brain tumor, and the incident Sunday night was probably a seizure.

I will always be grateful for my decision to not leave her for a work meeting, and for timing my departure to spend that last good week with her.

The dip in the mattress that was her spot remains unfilled by the other dogs. She was strength and power, grace and beauty, all rolled into one unassuming canine body. As I start to pick up the pieces of my unsettled life from this past year, I hold Daisy’s memory dear and I wanted to honor her here.

But, as they say, life goes on. After a year of transition, I gave myself a stern lecture about attitude. I looked at my life and found I have a large bowl of “lemons” and that I now need to focus on making some lemonade. So that is what 2025 is going to be about. I can’t wait to share my lemonade with you.