Daisy Moon is my golden child. My longhaired golden dachshund, my sweetest little girl.
She was born on Christmas Eve, the 24th of December 2022, in the glow of that season when the air feels softer and miracles seem closer than they should. She carries all the magic of Christmas with her. She arrives like a warm candle in fur and whiskers.
When I look at her name numerology , it feels like the universe winking.
DAISY = 4 + 1 + 9 + 1 + 7 = 22
And so does my son Ryan.
RYAN = 9 + 7 + 1 + 5 = 22
Ryan used to look up at the sky and say, I love you to the moon and back again, mom. He loved Christmas with all his heart. Even now, when the year turns toward that bright season, I feel him near, like a steady hand on the back of my heart.
So I added Moon to her name as a little reminder.
Daisy Moon is a reminder that the moon sees me, and I see the moon the way I believe he does, looking out for me from heaven’s window.
Daisy is super sensitive. She feels things before I do.
She reads energy like it is written in invisible ink across the room. If I am stressed, her golden eyes soften and her body shifts, like she already understands what I have not said out loud yet. She is tender. A little bit emo in the gentlest way. The kind of soulful sadness that turns into comfort the moment you touch her.
Her favorite part of me is to find my legs and hold onto them with all her might. Those two tiny front paws, gripping like she is anchoring me to the earth. She is gentle, sweet, and brave. She is an explorer too, with an adventurer soul that loves to roam and smell the world, one new scent at a time.
Daisy Moon does not have to practice love.
She shows up every day with an open heart and glowing melty eyes of love.
She is my real-life teddy bear. My snuggle bug.
Molly Joy is besotted with her, and together they are a tumbling cloud of sausage dog grunts and snorts and squeals. There are endless chase my tail games. There is always a second chance to cuddle. There is always a third lap for the joy of it.
I think everyone should have a sausage dog or two to love. They are such good medicine for the soul.
And when the night is quiet and the moon hangs up there like a promise, I look at Daisy Moon and I feel it again.
Love returns.
It arrives in fur and warmth and tiny paw strength.
It arrives with a soft breath against my chest.
It arrives on Christmas Eve, like magic that learned how to wag its tail.
SharynAnn
Daisy Moon is my golden child. My longhaired golden dachshund, my sweetest little girl.
She was born on Christmas Eve, the 24th of December 2022, in the glow of that season when the air feels softer and miracles seem closer than they should. She carries all the magic of Christmas with her. She arrives like a warm candle in fur and whiskers.
When I look at her name numerology , it feels like the universe winking.
DAISY = 4 + 1 + 9 + 1 + 7 = 22
And so does my son Ryan.
RYAN = 9 + 7 + 1 + 5 = 22
Ryan used to look up at the sky and say, I love you to the moon and back again, mom. He loved Christmas with all his heart. Even now, when the year turns toward that bright season, I feel him near, like a steady hand on the back of my heart.
So I added Moon to her name as a little reminder.
Daisy Moon is a reminder that the moon sees me, and I see the moon the way I believe he does, looking out for me from heaven’s window.
Daisy is super sensitive. She feels things before I do.
She reads energy like it is written in invisible ink across the room. If I am stressed, her golden eyes soften and her body shifts, like she already understands what I have not said out loud yet. She is tender. A little bit emo in the gentlest way. The kind of soulful sadness that turns into comfort the moment you touch her.
Her favorite part of me is to find my legs and hold onto them with all her might. Those two tiny front paws, gripping like she is anchoring me to the earth. She is gentle, sweet, and brave. She is an explorer too, with an adventurer soul that loves to roam and smell the world, one new scent at a time.
Daisy Moon does not have to practice love.
She shows up every day with an open heart and glowing melty eyes of love.
She is my real-life teddy bear. My snuggle bug.
Molly Joy is besotted with her, and together they are a tumbling cloud of sausage dog grunts and snorts and squeals. There are endless chase my tail games. There is always a second chance to cuddle. There is always a third lap for the joy of it.
I think everyone should have a sausage dog or two to love. They are such good medicine for the soul.
And when the night is quiet and the moon hangs up there like a promise, I look at Daisy Moon and I feel it again.
Love returns.
It arrives in fur and warmth and tiny paw strength.
It arrives with a soft breath against my chest.
It arrives on Christmas Eve, like magic that learned how to wag its tail.
SharynAnn
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