Dog Love

For the past few weeks, our house has been far too quiet. No one is barking at the back door, letting me know that she has waited exactly five seconds for someone to let her in and she’s deeply unhappy about the delay. When I’m working at my computer, no one is laying by my feet, snoring loudly. I don’t hear the repetitive squeak of dog toys, or the click of canine toenails on the hardwood floors. Our house has been peaceful, quiet, and almost entirely free of dog hair…..and I don’t like it one bit.

Lots of people have asked me if we’re going to get another dog. That question always surprises me a little, because I would think that anyone who knew me at all would realize that of course I’m going to get another dog. If I should spend my final years bed-ridden in a nursing home, I’ll most likely have a chihuahua hidden under the blankets and be bribing the staff to bring it food and take it for bathroom breaks. I’m not the sort of person who wants to live a dog-free life.

But I also know that it’s too soon to bring another dog home. My husband and I are still grieving for Lucy. It’s still hard to remember to walk in the house and not call out, “Lucy, I’m home!” (One of the best things about having a dog named Lucy was being able to say that.) When I’m away from the house for several hours, I still think I need to go home and let her out. And just last night, we realized that we still had her dog food stashed in our pantry, right below the box of dog treats. The simple truth is that we aren’t quite ready to open our hearts and our home to another dog just yet.

So these days, I get my “dog fix” when I walk the shelter dogs, who are always very happy to get the attention. My son and daughter-in-law’s dogs also come visit, making themselves instantly at home at “Grandma’s” house, as they explore every nook and cranny and scope out the furniture for the best napping spots. And they don’t seem to mind too much when we make it clear that their sleeping choices are limited to the floors and the dog beds.

One way or another, we are getting used to our life without Lucy, and coming to terms with not having a dog of our own anymore. I know that this particular phase of our life is temporary, and that the time is coming when we’ll begin to look for another dog to join our family. Until then, I’m really grateful for the shelter dogs and my “grand-dogs” for making this time of transition just a little bit easier. And for reminding me of just why I love dogs so much in the first place.

The only thing wrong with dogs is that they don’t live long enough. Lucy would have been seventeen next month, but she still didn’t live long enough. Because I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to the wonderful dog who had shared my life and my home for over sixteen years, even though the time finally came when I no longer had a choice.

I have written many times about Lucy, so my regular readers know something about her history. They know that when we adopted her from the humane society, we thought we were getting a calm, easy-going dog. Which she was, until the sedative they had given her when she’d been spayed wore off. And then we realized that we had actually adopted a very energetic and almost scary-smart dog who liked her own way best. Lucy was very loving and had huge brown eyes that could melt just about any heart, and those traits served her well. Especially since she was a firm believer that most household rules were nothing more than suggestions, and tended to live life very much on her own terms.

She loved being outside and took her self-appointed job of keeping our yard free of vermin very seriously. The squirrels quickly learned the only safe way they could cross our yard was via the power lines strung above our back fence, and even then, Lucy would be directly underneath them, hopping sideways along the fence on her back legs as she barked madly at the squirrel above her. Rabbits, voles, and chipmunks didn’t dare set paw in our yard when Lucy was around.

Inside, Lucy spent most of her time playing with her toys, and the squeaky ones were her favorite. She also kept a constant watch out for unattended food, which she clearly believed she was entitled to, even if she had to climb up on the dining room table to get it. To her credit, she left the table alone while we were eating, but once we finished and walked away, anything we were foolish enough to leave behind us was fair game. Once she even helped herself to the gingerbread house we were using as a Christmas table centerpiece.

Still, age catches up with all of us sooner or later, and Lucy was no exception. The dog who had always been so independent began to follow me around the house so that she could always be in the same room. There were times when she didn’t seem to notice that rabbits had taken up residence in our back yard, and even if she did happen to spot one, she just trotted briskly after it while the rabbit hopped casually away. The toys in her toy box were usually left untouched and she spent most of her time sleeping.

Inevitably, the time came when her body could no longer keep up with her spirit. Her hearing and eyesight faded, her sense of balance began to desert her, and medicines could no longer ease the pain of her arthritis or help her keep control of her back legs. And so we made the heart-breaking decision to say goodbye to our beloved, sweet and sassy little Lucy.

Rest in peace, baby girl. May you spend your days in a heaven filled with all your doggie friends, slow-moving squirrels and low tables loaded with all your favorite foods. And never forget just how very much you were loved.