My Daisy Girl


To say I love this dog is an understatement.  I have admitted often that I realize my love for her could be considered by some as an unhealthy thing.  But then, they probably never knew the the love of a dog as amazing as Daisy.

I’m a bit off today.  I feel I should warn you of this now.  I’m in pain, which is common for me, but it’s an uncommon pain that I’m feeling today.  If that makes sense.  And I’m having to go into work on what should be my day off.  And all of it has me thinking.


The pain.

“Having” to work on a day off.

Did I do the right thing in adopting this amazing dog?

I know for me, it was the right thing.  She gives me a reason to smile when I really don’t feel like it.  Got me out of bed on days when I could just as easily stayed in bed…and stayed for days.

But that’s what I get out of it.

What has she gotten?

A mom that can’t, no matter what she does or how hard she tries, can’t afford to pay for the tests that have such a good chance at ending her seizures.  And that makes me feel like a failure.

I comfort myself in the fact that she choose me.  So clearly choose me.  Of all the people that walked into that yard that day, she only came out from under the pick-nic table to see me.  And not just to see me, to sit on my feet and lean all the way back until she could see me.  As if to say, “Yep, you are my home.”  She wasn’t hiding.  She wasn’t afraid.  This dog has only shown fear of two things…the portable heater and the sound of the tv turning off and on.  She apparently was just waiting and waiting indifferent to the other dogs and people as she has been ever since.

But she didn’t know, did she?  She might have realized no one could love her more.  But she didn’t know that she was picking a person starting life over with close to nothing.  That this person she chose would still be struggling a year later to make ends meet.

I’ve willingly spent my entire savings and have gone into debt way beyond what I’m comfortable sharing in order to cover her vet (“normal” and neurologist) bills, emergency hospital visits (six or seven to date I think…I lose count as they often happen at 2 or 3 in the morning),  and her medicine.  And if I had anything left on my credit cards to spend, I’d spend it on her in a heart beat.

Even now, out of school and gainfully employed…it is a struggle.  I have to work today. Despite it being my day off.  Despite a spasming back that will make giving massages a painful endeavor.  All because I had a “snow” day last week and I have a bare minimum number of massage hours I have to work in order to make ends meet.

And I’m doing it.  I’m paying down my debt.  I’m paying my bills.  I’m managing.

But every time I spend “extra” money, I feel guilty.  Is a working cell phone worth putting that much more distance between Daisy and the tests she needs?

Every time I have to admit defeat, that my body that is always in more pain that I ever really admit to anyone…that it can’t take adding any more hours of work into my schedule I feel like I’m failing the dog that trusted me to care for her.

And then I tell myself I’m doing the best I can.  That most days are good days for her.  That she probably doesn’t remember the seizures after they are over.  That when we have moments like this


she knows without a doubt that she is loved and will never be left again.

But is it enough?  She’s only five.  Jack Russells can live to be 15+ years old.  She potentially has ten more years of life.  How many will she have to live with seizures every 20 days before I can finally afford to figure out what’s causing them and then treat them?  And what if the cause of the seizures is doing some as of yet unseen harm that could be stopped if only we knew what it was?

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry for whining about a dog when there are people that can’t put food on their table.  I get there are bigger problems in the world.  And I realize there are people who will say that all the money I’ve already spent is “too” much on “just a dog”.

But this one…this is my problem.  .  And I needed to vent.  Needed to shed a few tears.  Needed to get it off my chest so I can go do a job I really, really love even if it exhausts me.  Needed to let you know why I sometimes seem a little too preoccupied with money.

It’s because of my Daisy girl.  My heart.  Not “just a dog”.

About liferepressed

* I write because I don't like who I am when I stay silent. I write because I'd rather give up breathing than writing. I don't claim to be good, but I claim to try. I hope to make people think, to consider the state of their own lives. I try to write about things that matter. Not everything I write is serious, though, as laughing matters. I write and hope you will read.
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