07/06/2025
💔Rest easy, Daisy Mae.
Daisy Mae’s story began in May 2020 when volunteers found her tethered behind an abandoned carnival trailer—skin sagging over brittle bones, but tail still wagging. She was at least fourteen, almost toothless, and smelled of popcorn oil and rain. We wrapped her in a cotton blanket that night, promising she’d never feel loneliness again.
True to her carnival roots, Daisy Mae brought spectacle to mundane moments: juggling squeaky toys, spinning pirouettes on arthritic legs whenever she heard kettle-corn popping. She became the grand-marshal of every birthday in our house, the silent therapist during midnight fears, the queen of blanket forts. Yesterday afternoon she stretched out beneath a blooming lilac, sighed contently, and let the breeze carry her away. We buried her collar beside the lilac bush and hung a string of carnival lights overhead—so her spirit can keep the party glowing after dusk. Farewell, bright star; your midway is eternal.
