By Nancy Barry

Miss Daisy didn’t realize it at the time, but her new life actually began one day last July with a caring woman’s post on Iggy Planet, a forum for IG lovers.  This IP member had seen a classified ad in a Texas paper that touched her heart and she was asking for advice on how to proceed. The puppy mill owner told her this brood bitch had always lived in a cage; she might be good for a couple more litters but, at 9 ½ years of age, she was too old now to be a pet.  The next day they met in a parking lot. She handed him $50 and he handed her a very smelly and terrified old black and white IG. Two days later the Planeteer drove this girl to a Safehouse in Memphis and her journey had begun.

Now named Miss Daisy, she was tested for Brucellosis and heartworm, spayed, had a dental cleaning (in which some teeth were extracted), and had numerous mammary tumors removed. After 7 weeks of rehab, she was transported by the wonderful volunteers of the MoStar Transport team up to Wisconsin for further foster care. Prior to this, I had told Carol I would like to try being a foster home but would prefer an older dog. Happily, the rest is history!

Miss Daisy came to us in September, 2006.  She was good on-leash but off she was nervous and hand shy, although she liked to wiggle up to us for attention.  Fletcher, my own IG, was less than thrilled at first with her intrusion into our home but Cubbie, my Akita, accepted her immediately. Although she was pretty reliable on pee pads, she would also mark in the house. (Upon arriving in our home, Daisy began sleeping with me at night so, of course, nights were not a problem.)  Daisy would stay with my husband two days a week while I worked in Green Bay.  During those days, she began for the first time to poop in her crate while he was at work.  We were beginning to despair of ever getting her on a schedule that would work.  With Carol’s advice and support, we adopted a daily pattern that was similar on the days I was home to the days I was gone. This more consistent routine calmed her anxiety and got her potty training right back on track.

Daisy’s poor bowed little legs, huge rib cage, and scarred back spoke of the horrors of her previous life, but in spite of her past she immediately wanted to engage with us. Our initial attitude was she wasn't here to make us happy; she was here so we could make up for her past treatment. It's funny that people say "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder", because she looked quite homely to us when she first arrived. Now we think that she is beautiful. More and more, she endeared herself to us. We talked a lot about how she would need a very special adopter who was willing to tolerate an occasional potty mistake and not take it personally that she liked to spend much of her time alone on a comfortable bed. Prior to making the decision to foster Daisy, I made my husband a promise that we would not keep her. I felt I could offer more as a foster parent and I really didn't need a third dog in our apartment.  We are in our 60's and will be retiring and RVing full time in a year and a half. Three dogs might crowd us.

Well, so much for good intentions and promises. We both came to absolutely adore this girl and she fit into our life perfectly. She has been on several camping trips with all of us in the RV, to play dates, trips to the groomer, massage class, and family events which include two boisterous golden retrievers. None of these situations had upset her. The more we did, the more outgoing she became, even toward strangers. On Christmas Eve I found a card under the tree addressed to me from my husband and the boy dogs. They had voted that Daisy should become a permanent member of our family. Daisy had abstained because she felt she could not be impartial. That left the deciding vote to me.

Sooo... Daisy now has a permanent home. We intend to make her life as colorful, comfortable, and pleasant as possible for her remaining years. I swear, since that deciding evening she has been livelier and seeks more attention from us even than before. I know, I know... dogs aren’t supposed to understand these things. Tell that to Miss Daisy!