Daisy is 5 years old

Daisy

I can vividly recall the crucial day that Mason, Jenny and I were out for a family walk around the block.

We were walking south on Forest Avenue, and Mason was doing those "big jumps" that kids do while hanging between both parents; one hand attached to Mama and the other to Papa. Mason was 3, and Jenny and I had been "suburbanites" for two whole months.

A neighbor was walking his dog toward us. Mason let go of our hands and looked Jenny in the eyes. Without a spoken word between the two (they had obviously done this little dance before), Mason walked over slowly to the human and asked, "Can I pet your dog?"

To which he replied, " of course, he loves kids."

Mason approached the big lab with confidence and began to pet his shiny black fur. In an instant, the tail wagged and the tongue licked the face (the dog's tongue, not Mason's - although at that age, it does require an explanation).

"Nice doggy. OK, honey, it's time to finish our walk", said Jenny.

We continued the big jump game for a few more houses and then it happened. Those fateful words were spoken, "Papa, can we get a dog?"

"Oh, sweetie", I said, "Not today."

"When?"

I glanced at Jenny, but she was conveniently looking at a house across the street...no help. Without giving much thought I replied...

"We'll get one when you're 8."

"OK, thank you Papa."

Little did I realize that Mason has some kind of freakishly powerful memory, and never forgets anything that anyone ever tells her. Six months before her 8th birthday, Jenny and I were reminded of this conversation and the search for our puppy began.

Daisy was rescued from a shelter in Kentucky. She was days away from "going to live forever on that farm up in Wisconsin" when we found her. She's a pain, and Mason hardly ever walks her, but I'm very glad she's here. I tell Daisy everything - because even if she remembers, she won't be able to remind me of what I said. She's a dog.

Max