“You should blog about Denim,” said my mother. But in my head was, “how do I write about someone else in a space that was always meant for Daisy?”
Probably in the same way I’ve put out her beds, some of her toys, and her bowls. By letting someone else occupy the space she used to take up in the world. I don’t overthink it. It’s too hard to think, “It’s hers,” because then my next thought is, “Don’t touch it!” But toys were meant to be played with, bowls were meant to be eaten out of, and crates were made to be used grudgingly when you know the couch is RIGHT THERE AND YOU COULD BE SLEEPING ON IT WITH THE HUMANS.
The fact is, Daisy is still driving. Without her, I wouldn’t know how to do this. I wouldn’t be prepared for a sick dog, who still smells like animal shelter and is skin and bones. She prepared me to do the impossible–foster an unknown quantity and bring out her best qualities.
So hello, Denim. We’re going to put some meat on those bones and make you the perfect dog for your forever family. Until then, Blue Jean Baby, you can stay in this space.