I Loved Lucy

As I write these words, Lucy has been gone ten days, and if anything, when I pause long enough to think about her, the emptiness is, if anything, greater than it was on the day I last saw her. Intellectually I know there was nothing else to be done, but emotionally, well, she is sorely missed, and how wonderful if I’d had the opportunity to keep her with us another year.

There’s something strange about the whole process of euthanizing one’s precious pooch. I mean, on that last day when I set Lucy in the tub, she might well have thought, “Oh no. I’ve endured this many times before, and as often as he bathes me, well, I’d just rather forego it in favor of ‘dirty.’ I mean ‘clean’ is just very overrated.” And when I brushed her teeth, she would always bare those yellow canines on cue, so I could do the deed. Her untaught tendency to cooperate with me like this always elicited a smile… but not today. Not on this particular day.

I had fed Lucy that morning, but decided not to give her any lunch, lest the food, in conjunction with the sedative, produce an unexpected effect, such as vomiting, at that very crucial moment. And as I gave her breakfast, I thought of those condemned prisoners who order up a last meal. Of course, the major difference is the prisoners are all too aware of their fate. Lucy was marching blindly into a sure, but (to her) unknown future.

I had just rubbed my hand down her back for the final time, and had whispered a few words of parting, and comfort, and of course, the prerequisite “I love you’s,” though it was a privilege, and not an effort to say so.

And then I got in my car, backed out of our driveway, put the car into drive, and drove away. It was only later that my wife shared something that I might just as well have never heard.

“You know when you got in the car, and pulled away, Lucy followed you with her eyes… the whole way, as long as the car was in sight.”

Oh. Wow. That sentence hit me like a ton of bricks. So poignant. My eyes brimmed with tears. Even as I write these words, my eyes once again grow moist, and I can’t help thinking of those last few moments I spent with her. And now, the revelation that my dear little brown pooch never allowed me out of her sight. She gave me the gift of presence, and awareness, and well, as I discovered, she was so much with me as I drove away; her desire to make the moment last just a bit longer, 

…before the inevitable.

I miss my Lucy. I loved Lucy. And it occurs to me that while I have loved each of my little canines differently, the intensity and depth of my love for them has been very much the same.

And I have often mused what it will be like over there. And I call to remembrance the day I first brought her home. That day on which I looked over at her, and said, 

“Do ya want to go to heaven?” 

And oddly enough, her head suddenly swiveled in my direction, and she looked at me with those incredulous, sad, brown eyes, as if to say, 

“You gotta be kidding. Do you honestly think God is going to let someone like me into His heaven?”

I have asked my heavenly Father to admit all the animals I ever held near and dear. And I have little doubt, they will be waiting for me. And just as surely as my little Lucy watched me go, she will just as eagerly be awaiting my arrival. And as I round the last curve into Home, an angel on each arm, it will be my turn to look for her. 

I think that I will see Princess, and Buddy, and Lucy, and my current canine, Queenie; young, and frisky, healthy and happy. And my joy will know no bounds.

(“Reunited, and it feels so good.”)

Yes, I Loved Lucy

Excerpt from "I Loved Lucy" Copyright 2013.

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