It’s been six months since I lost Lucy. I like to believe she’s patiently waiting at the gates of heaven — ready for the reunion when I meet her again one day.
I still think about this sweet and faithful companion every single day. If you’ve ever had a dog who you loved, you’ll understand.
When I put the key into my front door when I return home each day, part of me still waits to hear the sound of her tail hitting the door as she realizes I’ve returned.
When I get up in the morning, part of me still feels compelled to get her leash and take her for the first walk of the day — something she loved so much. At night, part of me wants to take her for one last walk before bed, because each walk made her so happy.
But I can’t do those things, because the World’s Happiest Dog isn’t here anymore.

Dying Phelps’ anti-gay cult is vile and wrong, but I don’t hate him
What if writing from the ‘AI me’ sounds just like I’d written it?
Pretty much everyone shrugs at my most life-changing discovery
Actions more important than words when judging what someone wants
Could free cities turn reservations from abject poverty to prosperity?
If abortion is just simple choice, why is killing babies for gender bad?
Advocates of ‘limited government’ are the true utopian dreamers
‘Curing’ unpopular beliefs through psychiatry is throwback to ugly past