After returning from our honeymoon, my partner and I eagerly welcomed our first dog into our lives. Bella, just a year old, had already been passed around to three different homes. We loved her fiercely through all of life’s ups and downs, including the heartache of miscarriage and the joy of bringing our children home. From our first apartment to our dream house with a spacious fenced yard and a dog door just for her, Bella was our constant companion. We ultimately laid her to rest under the large pear tree just outside our window, her favorite spot where she’d spend hours watching the birds and playfully barking at squirrels.
I’ve never considered myself a “dog person,” but Bella had a special place in my heart. After she passed, I thought we would take a break from pet ownership. However, just days later, I realized my kids were heartbroken, and our home felt emptier without the familiar sound of paws on our wooden floors.
I set some criteria for our next dog: a shelter pup, small to medium-sized, house-trained, and ideally, non-shedding. I was prepared to wait for the right match.
Two days later, my partner sent me a photo of an 8-week-old puppy from our local shelter. She was undeniably adorable, but far from house-trained and certainly not small. However, one look at her tiny face melted my heart, and I knew she was meant to be ours.
Despite the hundreds of applications the shelter received, we were selected as her new family. We named her Daisy, and she’s been with us for over two wonderful years. She blossomed from an adorable puppy into a beautiful adult dog. Her wiry fur has transformed into a delightful mess, and no matter how often we groom her, she always manages to find a mud puddle. She loves to steal kitchen towels and my kids’ toys, and she lets me put her hair in little ponytails. Daisy has never barked indoors and is truly the sweetest dog we could ask for.
Except for one minor detail.
She’s a sprinter. If she spots an open door, she bolts out faster than you can blink. Thankfully, she always returns, but it’s anyone’s guess how long she’ll be gone or what kind of mischief she thinks she’s up to.
Fortunately, she doesn’t dig or jump the fence. (Well, there was that one time last spring when she found a gap and rolled around in every mud puddle she could find, ultimately visiting our new neighbors who mistook her for a stray. They bathed her and posted her photo online, leaving me utterly mortified.)
Most of the time, Daisy doesn’t even need to escape. She knows she can count on my son, Max, who is almost five and seems to forget to close doors. Daisy patiently waits for her opportunity. She gets excited when she hears my car pull into the driveway and watches us from behind the fence. If my partner is with me, she’ll stay put, knowing his authoritative “Daisy!” will send her back home.
However, if I’m alone with the kids, she takes advantage. As soon as the dog door is unattended, she speeds through the house and out the front door. Before I can react, she’s three houses down, barking at a neighbor’s French Mastiff, aptly named Duke.
Duke often jumps his fence to join her, and the toothless Chihuahua from next door usually tags along. I’ve even spotted them roaming with a cat! It’s like a chaotic version of “Oliver and Company,” but far less charming.
The other day, I noticed that Duke’s owner has installed an invisible fence. I can’t help but think Daisy might be the reason. (Okay, let’s be honest, she definitely is.)
Over the past two years, I’ve chased her while pulling a toddler in a wagon, waddled through the neighborhood during pregnancy, pleading and weeping for her return, and once, I even drove around with hot dogs out the window, hoping the smell would lure her home.
Last spring, Max opened the door to greet his brother from the school bus, and Daisy seized the moment to escape. Instead of returning home, Max dashed after her down the street. I panicked, tossing him and my newborn daughter into the car and racing through the neighborhood, convinced that Max had fallen into a ditch somewhere. Thankfully, after what felt like an eternity, they both appeared from behind a neighbor’s house—Max grinning and Daisy trotting proudly beside him. It was a moment of relief mixed with laughter and tears; I was a hot mess.
Daisy’s most recent adventure involved her bolting out the door post-bath, collar-less. She spent the night in someone’s garage while I comforted my sobbing kids, who thought they’d lost her forever. Thanks to social media, we managed to find her the next day, and since then, she’s been home without a hitch. Maybe that unexpected night away was her version of a “Scared Straight” program.
I know some dog enthusiasts might judge me for not outsmarting Daisy every time, but believe me, I’ve tried. She’s quick, and I’m often distracted. But Daisy is loved, well-cared for, and has a wonderful home with a big fenced yard to play in. She just has a knack for escape.
Despite her antics, Daisy is an amazing dog. She’s sweet, loving, and a calming presence in our home. It’s hard to believe that the same pup who occasionally causes chaos is also the one who rests her head on my lap while I write.
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Summary:
This article shares the humorous and heartfelt journey of a family navigating life with their mischievous dog, Daisy, who has a knack for escaping. From heartfelt memories of their previous dog, Bella, to the joy and chaos Daisy brings, the author reflects on the challenges and love that come with pet ownership.
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