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.

‘What if I asked you to marry me right now, without knowing more?’
Don’t blame politicians; you’re to blame for growth of government
When I’ve done something great, nothing seems impossible to me
Still relevant six years later: ‘We’re the Government — and You’re Not’
Chappelle is offensive and crude, but what he’s doing is important
Society needs storytellers to help make sense of a changing world
Third parties aren’t any better than two parties if they anoint rulers
We already know what’s right, but we choose our lusts instead