I wasn’t ready for another dog yet, but Lucy needed a ‘forever home’

By David McElroy · January 25, 2017

When a former neighbor asked me last year whether I was willing to adopt a dog who needed a home, I said no — and I was emphatic about it.

I already had more cats than I wanted to admit, so there was no room at the inn. I love dogs — and missed having them around, too — but I was determined not to have another dog as long as I was living alone. Dogs require a lot of work and since I no longer work from home, it didn’t seem fair to have a dog waiting all day for me to return.

I had absolutely no intention of adopting a dog yet. And that was final.

But one year later, my best canine friend is celebrating her first full year with me today. How did that happen?

Although I had no intention of adopting a dog last year, I agreed to take pictures of this needy dog and help spread the word on social media in an effort to find a home for her. My former neighbor told me it would be difficult to find the right home for her, because she was a “special-needs dog.” She had been rescued from life on a chain as a puppy and even after a couple of years, she was still skittish and terrified of the world. In the photo below, you can see the fear and submission in her eyes. It was the best picture I could get.

Her name was Lucy. She was living with a couple in a small apartment with four other dogs and several cats. The couple were having to move to a smaller place in order to take care of an aging parent. They were keeping three of the dogs, but they didn’t choose Lucy as one of the three. They had to move in another couple of days — so Lucy had to go, just like old furniture that couldn’t be taken along.

When I posted pictures of Lucy on social media, I wrote, “I’m trying to help find a home for this special-needs dog named Lucy. A friend had told me about her a few days ago and I got to meet her this afternoon. It’s going to be very difficult to find the right home for her, because she came from an abusive situation when she was a puppy and she’s still a very skittish dog two years later… If I were still working from home, I would adopt this dog in a heartbeat. Lucy was afraid of the camera, but was otherwise happy to meet me, which her current guardian said wasn’t typical. This couple have to move Saturday, so we have to work quickly to find the right place. Unfortunately, it’s going to take a special situation for her. She needs love, patience and understanding.”

Nobody expressed any serious interest in adopting Lucy. A lot of people felt sorry for her and wanted to help, but nobody stepped forward to take her.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Lucy for the next couple of days. Her eyes in particular were haunting to me. She seemed scared and there was so much need. So I made the fateful decision to provide a foster home for her — just until we found a good home for her.

I told myself and everybody else that it would just be temporary, but in my heart, I knew better. I knew this little girl would never leave my home.

On Jan. 25, 2016, I went to pick her up that evening after work. Lucy was terrified. All she knew was the small apartment and the couple who had cared for her since she had been rescued from the chain two years before. She clearly didn’t know what was happening. She was so scared that she defecated in the back seat of my car during the short ride home.

In the days and weeks that followed, everything about Lucy changed. Slowly, she lost the fear. She was no longer skittish. The hollow look in her eyes slowly went away.

Over time, she became confident. Her tail — which had been down in a submissive posture all the time when I met her — was now proudly curled up.

Lucy seemed happy.

She obviously felt loved. I’ve come to jokingly dub her the World’s Happiest Dog®, because she always seems excited and happy about her life now. It’s hard to believe she’s the same dog.

Lucy happily co-exists with the cats in the house, but her real joy during warmer weather is spending time with me in our fenced back yard.

She runs in the yard and chases squirrels and birds. She seems convinced she’s going to catch one of those squirrels one day.

Lucy loves riding in the car. She puts her back legs on the rear seat and her front paws on the center console next to me — and she rides around town as I do errands.

She always wants the sunroof open, even when it’s cold. If you see her riding down the road, there’s a good chance you’ll see her little black snout sticking out that sunroof — with her sniffer going full blast as she tries to take in all the scents of the world around her.

I didn’t want to adopt another dog — not yet — but Lucy adopted me. She didn’t leave me much choice in the matter. And it turns out that she was right.

I wish I were still working from home so I could spend more time with her. I feel guilty when I come home at the end of a working day and I know how long she’s been without me, but I know how much better off she is than what she was living with a year ago — or what her prospects were after having been labeled a “special needs” dog who would require a lot of work.

Lucy did have special needs. That’s true.

She needed love and consistent attention. She needed to feel secure about her environment. She needed a “forever home” she could count on.

In her heart, I’m sure Lucy knew she needed all those things. I just didn’t know a year ago today how much I needed her.

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After I wrote last night about being happy, I thought of an old song that mirrored what I was feeling. After listening to the entire album, I found it remarkable how well the emotions of that music match my own heart at this point in my life. Bob Bennett’s “Matters of the Heart” came out while I was in college. Even after all these years, it holds up really well, and you can listen to the entire album on YouTube. The specific song which matched my feelings last night was “Madness Dancing,” but I still find every song on the album to be strong with the exception of the eighth and ninth. (The song about his parents, called “1951,” is especially poignant.) In fact, the opening and closing songs paint a picture of my heart at its best now in these lines: “A light shining in this heart of darkness, A new beginning and a miracle, Day by day the integration of the concrete and the spiritual.” It’s old music that you’ve probably never heard, but it means a lot to me.

Narcissists tend to turn their children into narcissists — and since a narcissist doesn’t realize he or she is a narcissist, there’s no bad intent. How does this happen? I watched a YouTube video over the weekend from an Australian psychologist who does a nice job of summarizing how it works. None of this is new to me, but I thought it was useful for those who haven’t spent years digging through books and articles about it. The same psychologist has an excellent summary of something which confuses a lot of people about narcissism. You’ve all seen examples of the loud, boisterous and overbearing narcissist, but what about the ones who are more introverted and vulnerable? This type is called a covert narcissist (or a vulnerable narcissist), and this is what my father was. In the first video, I strongly see myself in the ways my father treated me and in the second video, I see what my father was almost successful in making me become.

It’s National Dog Day in the U.S. and Lucy is here to remind you to go express love and appreciation to your favorite canine. Not only does your doggie friend give you love and affection, but he or she also protects your home from intruders — such as birds, squirrels, mail carriers and other undesirables who deserve to be barked at vigorously. Where would we be without that? And if you think this service is actually unnecessary, ask yourself how long it’s been since your home was the victim of a vicious squirrel attack. See? The doggie defense works. Keep barking at ’em, Lucy.

I’ve spent a tremendous amount of time over the last couple of years thinking and writing about love and connection. I’ve come to understand that this lack of love and connection is at the root of a lot of human tragedy and unhappiness, including addictions and depression. As I talked with others and researched the psychology behind the issues, I ran into the surprising fact that researchers are increasingly using psychedelic drugs to allow volunteers to have experiences which are giving them a sense of connection which they’ve lost — something that allows them to feel connected to love and God in a way they didn’t understand before — which is having dramatic effects in combating things such as depression and addictions. In this 15-minute TED talk — without an audience in the age of COVID-19 — Johns Hopkins researcher Mary Cosimano shares her experiences with guided psilocybin sessions being used to treat addiction, depression and end-of-life issues. One of her key observations is the importance of love and connection. She said that it seems love is literally part of the answer. In her role as director of guide/facilitator services for the program, Cosimano is responsible for training and supervising session facilitators.

It’s something I wrote four and a half years ago — in the desperation of loneliness — and it’s become my most popular article. It’s not my best writing. It’s raw and unpolished. But it seems as though a lot of people can identify with it. It’s called Missing someone creates intense physical sensations in my heart. Just to give you an idea how many people still read it, I had 11,586 people visit the page last month — from 2,907 cities and towns around the world. London sent the most readers for it, followed by New York, Westminster, Los Angeles, Chicago, Kuala Lumpur, Melbourne, Sydney, Toronto and almost 3,000 more. I’ve noticed something interesting. It always gets the most hits from an area of the world in the late hours, right after midnight, and that breaks my heart — because I understand why. All these people are so lonely and are missing someone so much that they turn to a search engine looking for answers, so they stumble upon this piece. I wrote this late at night on the day after Christmas because my heart was breaking. I needed to express how much I missed someone, and a lot of people seem to identify with it. If you’re one of those people, I have no way of knowing who you are, but I empathize with you. I know why you hurt. I wish I could do more to help. I hurt with you, because after all this time, I still feel the same way.

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