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.

If authentic connection is absent, we crave love and a human touch
Why are we uncomfortable when other people aren’t much like us?
All humans are a little bit insane; we’re not as rational as we think
Years later, Supreme Court justice apologizes to Susette Kelo … sorta
Would you have avoided mistakes if a psychic could’ve warned you?
If you care about education — not just schooling — please read this paper right now
Lives change in moments of truth when we stop lying to ourselves