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.

Midlife becomes big crisis when our self-deception stops working
Connection with a child can make routine day feel more meaningful
How much can human heart take when inner winter lasts forever?
Advocates of ‘limited government’ are the true utopian dreamers
Let’s try a candid conversation just for the few who want to hear
Why do so many of us stay where we know we’ll remain miserable?
We build our own prison walls, and breaking free starts in heart
Traits that lead to great romance don’t always make right partners