Yesterday we put down our dog, Daisy, age 12 yrs 7 months 8 days.
Bulldogs are expected to live only 8 years on average. Daisy, who never really listened to anyone, lived well beyond that.
She was a “good dog”, and higher praise is hard to come by in the canine world.
She was a bit of a princess. She liked to sleep on cushions. Cushions on top of pillows on top of mattresses.
She was athletic. We were told when we got her that bulldogs can’t swim, and if they do they swim like anvils. Heavy, and headed towards the bottom.
Daisy proved them wrong. On any number of canoe trips in Algonquin or along the shores of Georgian Bay, she would jump in the water and swim for… f’ing miles.
She was our 4th attempt at a pet. A disastrous start of various fishes, a Peach-Faced Lovebird, an African Grey Parrot (clinically insane) we settled on a Bulldog (aka English Bulldog).
She was a great companion, but more than that she gave us a lot of joy in her incredibly human reactions and interpretations of the things that went on in her life.
In the final days, she stopped eating and drinking. We were trying to get her to take a variety of meds for failing liver and other conditions, but she refused. Yesterday she was unable to walk or stand up. Last night she spent in our room, but breathing unevenly and soiling herself. Eventually we realized that her time had come, and called the vet to do what they do.
RIP Daisy – it was a great run while it lasted….