We Know Lucy

On July 16, 2019, my dog Lucy had to go to the next plane of existence. I took this video on July 5, 2019 (drone selfie) so that I would never forget holding her like this. She loved it. I never saw people hold their dog this way, but she was my surrogate child, since I never had any children of my own.

Holding her against my chest gave me such peace. They laughed at me when I brought her into the vet this way.

This embrace was a daily occurrence in her last months. She knew her time was short, but she was concerned about me more than she cared about herself. I love this dog. But she was more than a dog to me.

My original book title was The Joy of Lucy. I changed it to My Failure as a Dog Owner. I did not fail, but I made mistakes. Big mistakes.

John Wooden, a coach that I admired from afar in my youth, said “If you are not making mistakes, you are not doing anything. I am positive that a doer makes mistakes.” 

Lucy was a special dog. She did not do fancy tricks; she did not make good YouTube videos. She did not like being in the water, but I took her out often. She did not like riding in the trailer behind my bike, but she went because she wanted to be with me, her dad.

What Lucy really loved, more than anything else, was seeing people smile. If you weren’t smiling, she wanted you to smile. She would do anything to see you happy. She wanted to have fun, and fun for her was seeing people laugh and smile.

I wanted a dog that would sit quietly at home, waiting for me. I wanted a dog that would support my desire to isolate. Lucy wanted NO part of that life.  Her love and desire to see me happy made me sacrifice what I selfishly wanted so that she would be happy. 

That was good for me. Seeing people, being around people made her the happiest. That made me happy. I now know isolation is not my path. She was brought to me to change my attitude.

Before I picked her up at the adoption event in November of 2011, Lucy had bounced from home to home. She was a handful, but she was desperate for a forever home.

The Jack Russell breed is known to bond with their owners. Breaking those bonds are painful. Eventually, we put our guards up, and bonding rarely happens. Lucy and I bonded. Deeply. Nobody knew me as well as Lucy. NOBODY. I doubt anyone ever will. It was like she read my mind, and in the last years, she knew what I wanted and what I had to do without me saying anything. There were times, based upon her expression, that she was reading my mind.

She watched me from the beginning of our time together to pick up cues as to my next move and she then tried to anticipate them. By the end, she had it down. Dog owners don’t always have that bond. Most people have another human that they might have that kind of bond with. Often Lucy said no, and I said yes. Many times, she was right, and I was wrong.

My last words to her included a promise to tell anyone who would listen what she meant to me and how wonderful she was to me.

Everyone needs to have their own Lucy, in dog or human form.