...Not the kind of wheel you fall asleep at...

In Loving Memory of Lucy (1991-2005)

So yesterday I went with my mom to have our squishable, loveable, sass-bucket of a family dog, put to sleep.

I am so sad, mainly because I did not spend as much time with her as she deserved (a regret that we all end up feeling when people/animals important to us pass, I know, but potent nonetheless). I am sad because she wasn't taken care of and given as much attention and love on a daily basis as she deserved. I am also sad because it is a terrible terrible thing to play a part in deciding when to end the life of someone you love. Terrible.

She was a good dog--a good dog but a lonely dog, never getting walked and living in a house where people are gone most of the day. She had a sassy bitch attitude and was always really loving. She was a big chubbo with a cheery but sassy disposition. She was a goddamn good dog. And a goddamn sweet one.

Our nicknames for her:

  • Lubert

  • Looby

  • Mooberry

  • Lu

  • Moocow

  • Moobert

  • Fatty McGee

  • Bear

  • Sausage

  • Silly things she did:

  • Claw at the fridge and whine constantly for food

  • Love popsicles

  • Hate olives

  • Like to play with centipedes and eat them

  • Was picky about the type/brand of potato chips she consumes

  • Must have secretly been half-cat: liked to spend lengthy periods of time cleaning herself and was *crazy insane* about tuna

  • Console you when you're crying

  • Other Reasons We Loved Her (Too Numerous to Mention):

  • The weird gesturings she used to do while lying on her side (which we took to calling "Satanic Dog Gestures" because they made her look like she's possessed).

  • How she'd let us "drive" her head by petting her ears.

  • How she was always, always so goddamn excited to see us when we came home.

  • Watching her run around in over-sized t-shirts that my sisters used to put on her.

  • The time she threw the buddha bone (the rope toy that dogs have) and it landed in someone's breakfast cereal.

  • How much she hated the little stuffed dog I bought her and how we used to drive her nuts with it.

  • When me and my sister Lisee would be home and bored and would entertain ourselves with Lu all afternoon--dragging her around on blankets, "torturing" her with aforementioned stuffed dog.

  • The way she used to bite crazily at leaves when you threw them at her or snuffle her nose in the first snow of the season.

  • That my sister used to dress her up in Mardi Gras beads and she used to like it--watching her walk across the yard with a whole bunch of them around her neck like a big princess, trying to find someplace to shit.

  • When she was a tiny pup and used to run around blindly outside with the water bowl on her head so she couldn't see.

  • Her corn teeth and how my brother was the only one who could get her to show them to us.

  • Watching her and my brother wrestle as though they were both sibling dogs.

  • Having her 800-lb body jamming itself into my bed to sleep next to/on/all over me when I was home from college on breaks and she couldn't get enough of my company.

  • The way she looked super-skinny and bare when my mom got her shaved except for her big eskimo-hood of a furry head--how I used to call her "Sausage" whenever she got shaved until it grew back in.

  • I remember when my dad and mom brought her home, hidden under one of their coats. I remember when she was tiny enough you could hold her in the palm of your hands. That dog was a lovely adorable kick-ass sassy woman, and I love the shit out of her and always will. None of my yammering can, of course, capture even an ounce of what I feel about the whole situation, but re-reading Abbie the Cat's sorrow over her best cat friend (Martha the Pirate) passing away made and makes my heart ache in the same way... with understanding. I am not quite so good at saying such things. So in honor of my pup, I direct you there, to read her words and to feel through her words how much it breaks my own heart to see our dog go:

    Abbie the Cat on the Passing of Martha



    Post a Comment

    Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

    << Home