Sunday, May 29, 2005

Daisy, Daisy.

"They're so friendly. Don't you think that daisies are the friendliest flower?"
-- Meg Ryan, playing Kathleen Kelly in "You've Got Mail"

My first dog's name was Daisy. In fact it was actually Shasta Daisy. And daisies are my favorites flowers. I imagine that's more than coincidence.

For a while Bath and Body works had a scent called Happy Daisies. I liked it. It went away. I loved my dog, Daisy, and she went away too -- a victim of an accident when she was a little over two. Don't ask me the details 'cause I don't want to type them.

The funny thing was that I used to hold her and cry because I knew I wouldn't have her long. Even as a kid I knew that.

We got her because I felt it was my duty, as a child, to ask for a dog. I fully expected a "no," but instead got a "yes, but I get to pick the breed."

My mother loved her. Bathed her regularly with Breck Shampoo and Tame conditioner. Being that Daisy was a Yorkie this was handled in the kitchen sink.

My mother learned how to make bows or Daisy's hair and bought a grooming table...the kind you usually only see at dog shows.

I really think I associate the end of my childhood with Daisy's death. I didn't know I could feel grief like that. Teachers and the school counselor didn't understand it. My mother -- who didn't understand a lot about me -- understood my pain. She felt it too.

Daisy hated people with accents. No idea what went on in her head. We actually had to close her off in a room when my babysitter came over -- an older woman who could have been sent from Central Casting to play "grandma." Just this sweet lady with a Southern accent. Daisy was not having it.

The classic story was the time an older fat woman and a young boy trespassed in our yard to pick grapeleaves. My grandmother let Daisy out and she proceeded to get fierce! She chased them both down the street-- to the amusement of the neighbors sitting on their front porch.

I loved taking her for walks, but when she was done going for walks she's plant her ass on the ground, leaving no choice but to pick her up and carry her home. That's what happens when a dog wears rhinestone collars and has her hairbows custom made.

With my own money, before we got her, I bought her a wicker basket. She ate it. Nobody told me that puppies chew wicker and I figured if they made dog beds made of wicker...

My first tattoo was of a bouquet of colors that, as far as I know, don't actually exist in the daisy universe.

I'd like to have a big garden of daisies some day.
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