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.

Hurt people hurt people, and it’s hard to forgive that in ourselves
Little girl’s happy ending reminds us not to be defined by tragedy
Town’s new fine for public profanity points to problem of ‘public’ spaces
We often value a love only after we’ve carelessly thrown it away
When people show you who they are, trust their actions, not words
Genuine love is always extreme — and it rarely makes any sense
Aren’t you thankful for the right to vote before they take your money?