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.
I no longer have an excited companion every time I go on a short trip in the car. I no longer have a sweet and beautiful girl who looks at me with love and adoration every day. I no longer have someone who wants to lie at my feet as I work at my desk.
It’s a privilege to be trusted with the life and well-being of a dog. It’s an honor to win the love and affection of such a companion. And the truth is that some of them are more special to us than others. For me, Lucy was one of those.
I don’t have any insight into the theology surrounding animals in the afterlife, but I like to believe they’re there, too.
Because if Lucy isn’t there when I die — and if some of my other dearly loved dogs and cats aren’t there — I’m not sure we could really call it heaven.
I miss you, Lucy. Wherever you are, I like to think you miss me, too.
And I like to think I’ll see you again one of these days.
Note: Here’s what I posted when Lucy died six months ago. And here’s what I posted right afterward to explain the details of her final days.

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