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.

Flawed bricks can build our lives, because perfection never arrives
Bachmann’s attack on Obama’s TelePrompTer was cynical hypocrisy
What if repairing my worst flaw meant losing my greatest power?
Forced sterilization gets to heart of arrogant progressive agenda
Jesus’ face on a Walmart receipt? People see what they want to see
I don’t really hate you, honest; I’m just afraid you may hurt me
Suicide’s what happens when you can’t find reasons to keep living
We can’t defeat the existing system; we must build a better one instead
With NASA getting out of the way, free market heads to outer space