In 2020 I was assisting in the care of my in-laws’ dog, Daisy. Daisy was an eight-year-old Bichon-frise who was certain that the world revolved around her. Then she met my dog Napoleon when he was thirteen, in the last months of his life. Daisy would sit near Napoleon and give me a look that I was certain firmly stated, “What did you do to him? Don’t you do that to me!” I loved Daisy’s visits because it gave Napoleon energy. Daisy loved to run in the kitchen only to watch Napoleon chase her. It was the equivalent of watching a grandfather play with a toddler. Napoleon quickly ran out of energy retreating to quiet of his cushion. When I moved his cushion to be in the same room with my work desk where Daisy also sat, he tolerated us. He was too tired to bark, so Daisy gave me the evil eye on his behalf. Daisy was small, feisty, full of energy, and ready to fight for all who needed help. That’s why I loved her.