Meet the Chief Inspiration Officer
Daisy’s Story
She never organized a fundraiser.
She never gave a speech.
She never knew she was inspiring a movement.
She simply loved us completely.
That love held our family together.
It shaped the people we became.
It became the heart of Team Rudd Foundation.
And somehow... it continues changing the world every single day.
The Little Dog Behind the Mission.
More Than a Mascot
People often ask why a little schnauzer appears throughout Team Rudd Foundation.
The answer is simple.
Daisy was never just our mascot.
She was our reminder.
She reminded us to love fully, forgive quickly, protect the vulnerable, welcome the outsider, and find joy in ordinary moments.
Long before Team Rudd Foundation had a name, Daisy was already teaching us the values that would become its heart.
Our First Little Girl
Daisy came into our lives on one of the most important days of our lives.
David and I had been legally married the year before at the Justice of the Peace in Staten Island. When same-sex marriage became legal in New Jersey, we celebrated our first anniversary by having the wedding we had always dreamed of.
That day, Daisy became our wedding gift.
Our first child together.
And if you asked Daisy, she would probably tell you she got married that day too.
From the beginning, she believed the three of us belonged together. Every hug, every kiss, every family moment — Daisy insisted on being included. If I leaned in to kiss David, she would squeeze her little face between us so she could get a kiss too.
She wasn’t jealous.
She simply couldn’t imagine a world where our love didn’t include her.
A Little Dog With a Big Personality
Daisy was sweet, sassy, stubborn, brilliant, loving, protective, and completely unforgettable.
As a puppy, she once chewed up a blue ink pen and stained her mustache, beard, and little chin hairs the most brilliant shade of blue. Even then, Daisy was showing us exactly who she was: curious, fearless, playful, headstrong, a little destructive, and absolutely not a follower.
She had opinions. She had expectations. She had standards.
Daisy chose her own path.
And somehow, even when she was covered in blue ink, she made it impossible not to love her more.
The Heartbeat of Our Home
Daisy was the metronome of our house.
She kept everyone moving through the rhythm of the day. If dinner was late, Daisy let us know. If it was time for snacks, medicine, breakfast, or bed, Daisy came to announce that the time had arrived.
She was vocal, joyful, and deeply present. You could hear her little footsteps moving from room to room, and somehow the whole house felt different when she entered it.
She was not exactly a mother, but there was something deeply nurturing about her. She cared for Scott, David, and the entire pack in her own assertive, loving way.
Daisy did not simply live in our home.
She helped create the feeling of home.
David’s Little Girl
To David, Daisy was his little girl.
She was absolutely a Daddy’s girl, and their bond was unmistakable. When David held her on his hip, Daisy would wrap her little arms around his neck, press her head beside his, and look in the same direction he was looking — almost as if she were proudly saying, “This is my daddy.”
Daisy would sit on David’s lap and look out the window while they drove. At night, she would snuggle beside him, press her back against his chest, and fall asleep safely in his arms.
David felt as though he had been entrusted with something precious — a beautiful little soul he was meant to protect, love, and care for.
He was her protector.
She was his little girl.
Scott’s Best Girl
Daisy changed the way Scott saw the world.
She loved him through years of growth, healing, mistakes, questions, and becoming himself. Her love never wavered. She saw something in him that maybe he was still learning how to see in himself.
Daisy made him happy in a way nothing else in the world could. She reminded him that animals are not “just pets.” They are souls. They are family. They are teachers. They deserve patience, kindness, respect, and unconditional love.
People sometimes say Scott changed Daisy’s life.
The truth is, Daisy changed his first.
Stop and Smell the Daisies
Daisy had a way of pulling us back into the present.
Life gets busy. Work, emails, invoices, responsibilities, community projects, and daily routines can make it easy to miss the little moments that matter most.
But Daisy would not let us miss them.
She had a little “woo-woo” sound she made when she wanted attention. Maybe she wanted a treat. Maybe she wanted to be picked up. Maybe she wanted to be fawned over. Maybe she simply wanted us to stop what we were doing and notice her.
And we usually did.
Daisy reminded us that emails could wait. Phones could wait. Work could wait.
Love was right there in front of us.
Daisy taught us to choose love while love was still in the room.
The Daisy Crumbles
When Daisy was happy, she did not keep it to herself.
She had a self-satisfied happy dance we called the Daisy Crumbles.
She would flip onto her back, kick her legs into the air, wiggle around, grunt, and make a funny little sound that almost sounded like a motor revving. It usually happened after eating, getting treats, or simply feeling pleased with herself.
You could hear it from another room and know exactly what was happening.
Daisy was crumbling.
Pillows were kicked off the couch. Blankets were rearranged. Whatever calm arrangement existed around her was joyfully disturbed.
Daisy disturbed the status quo with her joy.
The Heart of the Pack
Daisy became the leader of our pack, but not because she demanded power.
She led because everyone trusted her.
She mothered, watched over, guided, comforted, corrected, and cared for the dogs who shared our home. She welcomed rescues, protected her family, and treated every member of the pack with dignity.
Daisy led with love.
That was one of her greatest gifts.
Everyone noticed Daisy’s eyes.
She had the most soulful, expressive eyes — the kind that made people feel like she truly understood them. She would look at you, tilt her head ever so slightly, and it felt as if she was processing what you said with an ancient kind of wisdom.
Daisy did not just look at people.
She saw them.
There was something timeless about her — something wise, joyful, intimate, and deeply loving. She was a tiny little dog, but one look from her could make the world feel bigger, softer, and more connected.
Daisy did not need words to be understood.
Her eyes said everything.
Her Eyes Said Everything
