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EDITOR'S NOTE

When she first took up residence across the street a few years ago, we called her Shorty, this little black dog with the long curvy tail who has her eye on all that transpires, who slowly but surely made the entire neighborhood her territory. After many months of watching her watch us, I finally ran into one of her humans and learned her name is Daisy.

We furthered our acquaintance with her by buying a giant bag of puppy treats at the tractor supply store for $1.99. Those were the carefree days when two (or four) of those cheap treats did the trick. Back then the treats were on the counter in the back of the garage, so she would trot in and head over to the supply area. At first, I kept my distance.

My formative experience was when I was about six, chased by Tina the mutt from four houses down, while on my bike. I was terrified and screaming and pedaling as fast as I could, which culminated in a spectacular over-the-handlebars spill and Tina on top of me barking like crazy. I have a vivid memory of my brothers standing on the front steps relishing the carnage. So not that much of a dog person.

But Daisy. I couldn’t resist. She and I have those short legs in common, and here I am, for the first time in my life, in love with a dog.

Especially since she started watching for me to come home from work. If she doesn’t get over before the garage door closes, she waits at the front door. I understand that the draw is the treats — now a much more elaborate selection including her favorite salmon snacks and sweet potatoes, but her visits make me ridiculously happy.

Her tail never stops wagging while she’s with us, and when she does head home, she always turns to check that we’re watching her go. When she frolics with the children next door, my heart melts as they play. I do get a little jealous when I see her trotting up someone else’s driveway, but I doubt their snacks are as good as ours, nor do they have special water dishes for her in the garage and on the back patio. And I don’t think they walk her home with a big flashlight if it gets a little too dark while she’s visiting.

Sometimes, after she’s had a few snacks, she likes to just sit quietly. I sit on a little stool and she lays on the garage floor. For all her sparkle, she seems to know that the very truest of friends enjoy silent kinship. It makes me think of my dad, who also liked the quiet, and spent a lot of time puttering in the garage with a crackly transistor radio and the voice of Herb Carneal doing play by play of a Twins game. I didn’t know to slow down and savor those times, but I’m getting a second chance, and I’m taking it. You never know where you’ll find an extra ray of sunshine.

May you also have people and pets or neighbor’s pets in your life who bring you unexpected moments of joy.

Thank you for reading.

Email: laura.mcdaniel@ndsu.edu
ndsu.edu/magazine

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