Loving Lucy: When Goodbye Comes Too Soon
I have always been a dog lover. My love for dogs began when I was five years old, when my parents adopted a puppy named Toby. He quickly became my best friend. When Toby was eight years old, he was tragically hit by a car and killed. It was one of the saddest days of my childhood, and I never forgot the love he gave me.
Since then, I have been blessed to share my life with several wonderful dogs. Every one of them lived to be around 15 years old, so I naturally assumed I would have many more years with my next dog as well.
In 2018, my husband and I stopped at a pet store and saw the cutest yellow Labrador puppy. She had the sweetest face and a distinctive stripe running down her nose. I remember saying that I didn’t need another dog, but my husband encouraged me to take another look. Honestly, it didn’t take much convincing. Before long, Lucy became part of our family.
Lucy wasn’t the healthiest dog. Throughout her life she dealt with joint problems, urinary tract infections, allergies that constantly made her itch, and other health issues. Yet none of those things ever stole her joyful spirit. She was incredibly sweet, gentle, and loving. She was happiest simply being close to me—lying beside my wheelchair, following me through the house, or sleeping in the funniest positions imaginable. She had a way of making us smile without even trying.
Earlier this year, Lucy was diagnosed with vocal cord paralysis. Ironically, I had been diagnosed with the same condition a couple of years earlier. Our veterinarian explained that there wasn’t much we could do besides keep her cool, calm, and comfortable. We did everything we could.
As the weeks passed, I noticed little changes. She slept more than usual and wasn’t quite as interested in eating. They were subtle enough that I hoped it was simply part of getting older. But when I returned home from my cruise in June, I immediately noticed she had lost a significant amount of weight. She looked weak and exhausted.
After a difficult night, Jeff and I knew she needed emergency care.
Watching my husband gently place Lucy into a wagon and then lift her into our van is a moment I will never forget. Deep down, I knew this might be our last ride together. I talked to her the entire way, telling her how much she was loved and thanking her for being such a wonderful companion.
The emergency veterinarian gave us heartbreaking news. Lucy was in severe kidney failure. Her kidney values were so high they could barely be measured, and there was virtually no chance she would recover. Jeff and I were faced with the decision every pet owner dreads.
With tears streaming down our faces, we sat beside her, petted her, thanked her for the joy she brought into our lives, and told her how much we loved her before we let her go peacefully.
Grief has been much harder than I expected.
I know Lucy is no longer in pain, and for that I am grateful. But I miss hearing her footsteps on the floor. I miss her kisses, her goofy facial expressions, and the way she always wanted to be nearby. The house feels quieter now, and there is an emptiness that only those who have loved a pet truly understand.
The next day, our children came home from Hawaii, and we had the heartbreaking task of telling them. They handled it better than I imagined, but grief is still grief. There is no right or wrong way to mourn someone who was part of your family.
What makes this loss even harder is that Lucy was only eight years old. I never imagined we would lose her so soon. Just three months earlier, we had also said goodbye to our 18-year-old cat. Losing two beloved pets in such a short time has left a hole in our hearts.
One thing that has brought me comfort is our other animals. As I write this, one of our cats is curled up beside me, quietly reminding me that love continues even after loss. Animals seem to have a remarkable way of sensing our pain and offering comfort without saying a single word.
People sometimes say, “It’s just a dog.” Anyone who has loved a pet knows that simply isn’t true. They become part of our routines, our memories, our celebrations, and even our hardest days. They ask for very little but give unconditional love every single day.
I will always miss Lucy. I wish we had more time together, but I wouldn’t trade those eight years for anything. She made our family laugh, taught us about unconditional love, and left paw prints on our hearts that will never fade.
Thank you, Lucy, for every tail wag, every kiss, every silly sleeping position, and every moment you spent by my side.
Until we meet again.
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