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.

FDA’s war on margarine is really an attack on your freedom of choice
When strangers tell us things we want to hear, we want to believe
Whether it makes sense or not, I’ve learned to expect miracles
You can’t see inside my heart, but my words invite you to know me
When times turn too dark in my life, I’m grateful for furry antidepressant
‘Please do not adjust your set’
THE McELROY ZOO: Meet Munchkin, the dog who vanished without a trace
The world becomes magical when the right person says, ‘I love you’
If online attack confirms your biases too nicely, it just might be a fake