Daisy turns two today! Time has flown, and she’s no longer a puppy, and all the other cliche things we say as we watch our animals and kids grow up at the speed of sound. But for me this birthday is all about the fact that my little ride or die is alive and well. Almost 14 weeks ago, Daisy and I were hit by a car. She broke one hip, dislocated the other and had fractures on her pelvis. She had surgery on both hips and was in the hospital for three days, before coming home to doggy “bed rest,” which is no stairs, no jumping, no playing with dogs and no fun.

While I was laying in the hallway of the ER on a stretcher waiting to find out the results of my x-rays and CAT scan on the day of the accident, I had thought Daisy was miraculously fine. But then later in the afternoon, I was told she wasn’t. I wailed right there in the hospital like I’d been informed everybody I loved in the world had just been killed. My head immediately ran toward the worst case scenarios. Would she lose her leg, or be paralyzed? Would she make it through surgery at all? My body was in pain, and my brain was concussed and my spirit was shaken and stirred like the perfect martini, but what I was most upset about, most consumed with, was whether or not my dog would be ok.

For the first 10 days she lay on my lap, or snuggled up with my husband, or burrowed into my sister, as close to us as she could get her little body, and just sleep. I would stare at her three inch scars and her tiny little legs, wondering how her delicate body had met with a Porsche SUV and won.

She wasn’t allowed to do anything, except go outside (by being carried–in fact my husband had to carry her up and down the stairs for three months) to go to the bathroom. She took medication for eight weeks, swallowing one pill down that we hid in a treat and letting us squirt the other into her mouth. She couldn’t play fetch with the entirety of her toy basket–first one toy, then another– as she energetically does at least three times a day. In fact, she wasn’t allowed to participate in any of her usual shenanigans at all.

At night she slept with us, on a leash tethered to my arm, in case she tried to jump off the bed, which could be doom for her healing hips (she never did). She never whined, never barked, never acted out. She never even had any kind of “accident” in the house, either. And anytime someone came over to bring food, or flowers, or to visit, she bore into their laps like she’d known them since she was born and they were her best friends.

As it turned out, she was much more accommodating with her injuries and limitations than I was with mine. And while her remarkable personality shone through from day one, slowly, her sparkly and adorable spirit came back in full. Walking increased by five minute intervals each week. We began to let her roam around the first floor, and even play a limited version of fetch.

The day we met Daisy, a three month old ball of red fur, we marvelled at her temperament–she was immediately easy going and loving. But to watch her face pain, meds, and a boring daily schedule, and STILL maintain her winning personality, just proved she was the kind of dog you’d make if you could create one for yourself.

I am a dog person. I cried every single day for two straight weeks when we had to let my 14 year old dog Riley go. And while I didn’t think any dog could replace Riley, (and Daisy hasn’t) I missed the hilarity and love of dog life–we all did. And so we took a chance and got another dog. And we did it on the internet! It was a risky move, but I feel like I won every state lottery in the country, (plus all the scratch tickets), because she is one of the best parts of my life.

What I have learned over the years is that the love a dog can give is deep, transformative and astonishing.

The experience of being hit by a car is miserable, and while I am healing, I will have to be in physical therapy for at least six more months, and in the end may still have to have knee surgery. I’ll never get the moment of impact out of my head. And when Daisy has arthritis when she’s older, as the doctor’s have told us her surgery would cause, I will do everything in my power to make sure she can continue to live her best life.

Daisy and I didn’t make it across the street that day, but we did make it to her second birthday, and back to the dog park, and even back to crossing the street again (although I do look like Linda Blair in The Exorcist when I cross, because I look both ways so many times).

And for that, there is no way to measure the amount of gratitude I have.