David McElroy

It felt as though my heart was going to explode with joy.

She loved me. She told me she loved me. I had already fallen in love with her, but I was terrified that maybe she might not love me in return. And then came those magical words.

“I love you, David.”

As long as she loved me, nothing else mattered. We could overcome any problem. I could climb any mountain that our relationship required me to climb. I could be whatever I needed to be. The world changed in that moment — all because she loved me.

We loved each other deeply. We said the words — both aloud and in writing — all the time. (What you see above is a screenshot of her very own keystrokes from an email I still have. I still have all of them.) We expressed the feelings to one another in ways that made the world seem alive and magical. The world was bright and loving and perfect, all because she loved me and I loved her.

Until everything changed. My heart was broken and bruised. So was hers. But why?

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In the end, it was cancer that took Lucy from me.

I don’t want to talk about this, but I can’t help but tell the story. I can’t speak the words without breaking down, so I’ve told nobody so far. I’ve already given you the big picture view of losing her very early this morning, but here’s how the last day of her precious life really went.

I had known for months that Lucy was declining, so I’d been preparing myself. She didn’t have any symptoms of anything wrong out of the ordinary, but I’ve been through enough death with dogs and cats to recognize when the end is approaching.

Each time I returned home from work this past week, I feared that I would find her dead. I had the same fears about her each morning when I woke up. I knew it was that close. I knew it was inevitable.

I was surprised when she made it to another weekend, but I was overjoyed to have a little more time with her. When Saturday started, though, I had no idea how much would change by the time my long day would end Sunday morning.

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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.

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