an ode to Daisy, the dog

my mom met Daisy three years ago in a fog of grief after the loss
of her mother. we’d dragged her to a pet store
where shelter dogs had won themselves an all-day outing.
my mom and Daisy met in the back by the bags of kibble
and fell in love

mom drove a state over to the shelter
only to find that Daisy was already adopted.
she left her name and number
in a move I didn’t know you could pull at shelters and said
please call me if she comes back

as fate, or maybe grandma
would have it, Daisy did come back
returned by her owners following their likely displeasure of her habits
of climbing onto tables and her longing stares for affection

Daisy was ecstatic
she slept in every bed she could get her paws in,
and tasted every food by stopping her climb onto tables
and instead gently asking
with her brown doe eyes.
following years of neglect,
Daisy found heaven
a protector, and love

Daisy was a puddle of sincerity:
laying, licking and longing for every human in her home.
she loved my little sister, my dad, and her big
dog brother. most of all, Daisy loved my mom.
the one who found her
forgotten and uncherished. the one who believed
insisted
 that she was a good dog.
the one who saved her,
her protector let her go for the last time
and only because she loved her
and only because Daisy absolutely didn’t deserve to suffer
because she was a good dog
and only because
she had to