In the last 30 days, I have lost three important figures in my life. First, Aunt Viva, whose dairy farm lifestyle and farm cooking shaped my younger life. Then my father in law, Larry Carter, whom I wrote about last week. The final kick in the pants was coming home from his funeral to find out that my dog Daytona, 13 years old, had passed away while we were away overnight. He was peacefully curled up next to my chair in the living room. We knew he was struggling with congestive heart failure and almost daily seizures. But the medicine appeared to be helping in diminishing his symptoms…or so we thought.
So now I compose my ode to Daytona:
You came to me as a Christmas gift from Cindy in 2010. You were just a little puppy in need of potty training. I was on a walker from having knee replacement surgery and that made things interesting. I enjoyed picking out your name and debated between “Pit Stop” and your eventual moniker of “Daytona”. Both were NASCAR tributes. The vote was settled when I observed that my grandson Braxon, just a toddler then, had an easier time saying Daytona than Pit Stop.
You ate my sloppy joes off an unattended plate when I left the room, and I scolded you. You were constantly under foot, sometimes causing near falls, and I scolded you. You left gastrointestinal gifts on my carpet, and I scolded you. You would not fetch when I tossed the toys, and I scolded you. You stole my slippers and dragged them to who knows where, and I scolded you.
You were a big part of my early morning and late night routine. Taking you out for the first and last potty break of the day. You hated a bath and riding in my truck made you shake and shiver like a leaf on a tree in a windstorm. You were the excuse I used to not replace all the worn carpet in the house. I thought it made more sense to wait until you were gone to avoid new territory marking stains. Do I now go carpet shopping? I really do not relish that idea.
For some reason, you did not bark very often at me but only at Cindy. What were you trying to say? Were you tattling on me to her, for giving you a boot to the butt to clear the pathway to walk? Or were you just more fond of her and expressing your affection?
You were my partner in the garage listening to music. You were my partner as I did yard work enjoying the grass and sunshine. You grew so attentive whenever I started cooking in the kitchen; sitting, staring and hoping for a dropped morsel from the chopping block. What will I now do with the leftover rice you loved to have mixed in with your dry dog food? You were the reason I shampooed the carpets…not so often now.
So many times I got annoyed by your behavior; but that says more about me than it does about you. I can now open an outside door without you bolting past me, almost tripping me. I keep looking for you to enter the room. Now, the only one to go potty outside is me.
I finally put away your food and water dishes. I plan to find a good home for the tote of dog food left by the garage door. I did not deserve you. You did not deserve my less than stellar attempt at being a “doggy daddy.” I am sorry Daytona for not taking you on more walks and cuddling you more often while watching TV. I am sorry for being grouchy at you with way too many scoldings. I could have done so much better. What you deserve is my heartfelt gratitude for your undivided attention and unconditional love for me and for all who entered our home. Thanks Daytona… JOB WELL DONE!
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