It's hard to tell Daisy even has cancer from the way she is acting. She is eager for her daily walks and still bullies poor Bubba, as usual. In short, she's her same energetic, obnoxious self, although she seems to want even more cuddling and attention from me than usual. I'm sure she senses our time together is growing short. I try not to think about it too much. She climbs up in the bed with me every morning and sleeps back to back with me for a while. I'm always happy to be able to say, "Good morning, Daisy." This dog is going to leave a lot of silent and empty spaces behind her when she is gone.
I feel guilty because I can't spend every waking moment with her and will feel far guiltier to come, I'm sure. I spend as much time with her as I can, though. I wish spring were here so the sun would be warm in the garden. My little sun dog and I love sitting out there together. I canceled the art lessons I'd planned to take because I didn't want to leave Daisy for the four hours it would take to drive to the foothills for the workshop and back. Didn't like the instructor, anyway, and don't think I would have enjoyed taking classes from a crabby prima donna. It would have been absurd to leave my dear dog behind for hours on end to go paint her likeness in pastel. Soon, photos and paintings of her will be all I'll have left.
Daisy's appetite is voracious because of the Prednisone. She always drives us nuts begging for treats, but it's worse now. The vet says it's good for keeping weight on her, though, and I'm sure it's helping fend off the cancer effects longer. I am vigilant for any signs of discomfort in her, but so far I haven't seen any. I know the day I so dread approaches. I just hope that it is still a while to come. Perhaps Daisy will be the one dog I've ever had who will do me the supreme loving act of passing peacefully in her sleep.