Peaches is channeling Daisy these days.  After more than two years with us, Peaches has become so secure in her domain that she is becoming as bossy, stubborn, and sometimes as bratty as Daisy was; well, almost.  No dog we've ever had has been as naughty as Daisy, doG rest her. This transformation is leading me to believe that perhaps I'm just too much of a pushover where my dogs are concerned.  (I hope Cesar Milan or Victoria Stillwell aren't reading this.)

Speaking of Daisy, something rather odd happened the other night when it was time to give Bubba his after-dinner biscuit.  I always have to play the Biscuit Game with him (I know all there is to know about the Biscuit Game).  He plays "hard to treat" for a while before he finally accepts and eats his biscuit.  He does the play bow and barks at me over and over to offer the biscuit to him, which he then tosses aside for me to offer again.  On the third try he usually takes it.  When Daisy was alive, all I had to say was "You better eat it, Bubbie.  Tizzy's gonna get it!" (That was one of our pet names for her).  

I was getting a bit annoyed that he was dragging the game out so long while I was trying to get our dinner on the table (Yes, the dogs eat first at our house), so I said that phrase to him to coax him to hurry up and take the biscuit.  Upon hearing her name, he froze, perked up his long ears, and looked toward the door, which was ajar.  It was as though he expected Daisy to barrel into the room at any moment, as she used to do.  It was downright spooky, as though she had somehow been summoned by my incanine-tation to join in our game.  Who knows if dogs sense things we do not and that Daisy's spirit really was here with us in my room, as in days before?  

I realized with a bit of shame at having uttered her name to encourage him to finish his game that Bubba has not forgotten his old pack mate in all this time.  I understood how much he must still miss her.  Perhaps that is why he has never fully accepted Peaches, because he keeps hoping Daisy will come back to him.  Bubba and Daisy shared their youthful days together. Perhaps in their twilight years, old dogs become as wistful for the old days as old people do.  Of this I am certain:  Dogs grieve.  Dogs remember.  Don't ever doubt it.  Daisy lives on in Bubba's memory, and in mine.