Goodbye, Lucy (2012?-2025)

Living with me wasn’t Lucy’s first home. I wasn’t even her second family. I was her third home.

She first lived on a chain in someone’s back yard in a dangerous neighborhood. After she was rescued from that life, she lived in an overcrowded apartment with a couple who had far too many rescued animals, including five dogs.

When that couple had to move, they could take only three of the dogs. Someone else wanted the fourth dog, but nobody wanted Lucy. On the day before the couple had to be out of their apartment, I agreed to take her. So she lost the only people she knew — once again.

When I brought her home with me on Jan. 25, 2016, she was confused and scared. I promised her that day that she now had a home for the rest of her life.

Roughly 10 years later, that promise has been fulfilled. I lost this precious girl very early Sunday morning.

I’ve been through the deaths of countless dogs and cats over the years — and it never gets easier. Losing Lucy is especially hard, because she’s been a perfect dog. Literally.

She’s been an amazing friend. And it’s hard for me to accept that she’s gone.

I didn’t want to accept Lucy when I was asked to take her. A neighbor knew the people where she lived and that person was trying to help find a new home for her. She asked me — and I said no.

Several times, she asked. Several times, I declined. I was too busy to take care of a dog. I had recently moved into an old house that needed a lot of work. My life and career were in turmoil. It just made no sense to take responsibility for a new dog.

I agreed to help try to find a home for her. I took a couple of photos to post on Facebook and I offered her to my friends. When I met Lucy for the pictures, she was scared and very confused. She didn’t want to trust a stranger.

I was told by the people with whom she lived that she would always be a “special-needs dog,” because she was terrified of people. Based on my limited interaction with her, I believed them.

The day came when these people had to move. Nobody had stepped up and offered her a home. I couldn’t get this girl out of my mind. So I finally offered to provide a temporary home for her — while we kept looking for a permanent home.

I brought her home that night telling myself it was temporary. In my heart, I knew I could never give her up. And that’s why I promised her on that night she had a home for life.

For the first few days — maybe even weeks — she was still scared. She was definitely confused about having a new home and a new human.

But over the weeks and then months, she changed. She absolutely blossomed. Where there had been fear and skittishness around people, she learned to be confident and friendly.

Before I knew it, there was nothing left of the scared dog who I had been told would always be a “special-needs dog.” Instead, she was happy and relaxed and friendly. I quickly nicknamed her the World’s Happiest Dog.

Most of all, though, she was loving.

Lucy loved me most of all. She wanted to be close all the time. She completely trusted me and instinctively obeyed in a perfect way. She got along with all the cats I had at the time and she’s continued to make friends with the cats who’ve come and gone over the last 10 years.

Over the last year, she started declining. She looked older and she moved a bit more slowly. She still wanted her nightly walks, but she wasn’t quite as fast. She still patrolled the neighborhood and kept us safe from varmints and ne’er-do-wells.

Even as her body slowed, her joy never did. She was still friendly and happy with everyone she met.

In the last couple of months, she got slower and slower. She was still happy and loving, but she looked old. She looked and acted tired. I knew she was declining, but I was in denial about how little time she had left.

In the last two weeks or so, she could no longer take her beloved walks. She still went into her fenced back yard every evening when I came home from work — until her last few days — but she mostly just sat near the door to the house and watched the neighborhood.

And a few minutes ago, she left us for good.

It’s going to be very different around here without Lucy. I won’t have to be running home so frequently to make sure she gets out of the house. I won’t hear her tail hitting the door — as she wags her tail — when I start unlocking the front door when I come home. It’s going to be quieter since she won’t be around to bark at unfamiliar noises in the night. There will be a lot to get accustomed to.

Mostly, though, I’m going to miss a wonderful friend — a sweet and loving girl who’s been my constant companion for 10 years.

I kept my promise, Lucy. You were home and you were loved — all the way to the end.

Note: For details of Lucy’s last day with me, here’s an account of how the end came.