One of the first week’s assignments for Brene Brown’s “The Gifts of Imperfection” course is to draw a heart and put in it the names of people whom you feel you can confide in and share your WHOLE heart. However, I decided to take a different perspective on it this time around…
This week, I had to say goodbye to my dog, Lucy. Lucy was very special to me because she was the first dog I ever brought into my OWN home. Loved by all and spoiled rotten, (lending to one of her nicknames, “The Princess Dog”), she had quite the personality. Always the entertainer,and royally stubborn, she often took after the comedienne Lucille Ball. Although I had actually had the name “Lucy” picked out before she was born, it fit her well and “I Love Lucy” was a phrased often used in our home, along with my horrible Ricky Ricardo voice saying “Luuuuuuuccccyyy” when trying to get her attention!
(A funny note: Just like the Lucy in the famed TV show, my Lucy also wound up “in trouble with the law” once or twice! After getting out of the fenced yard and slipping her collar at six months old, she actually got a police escort home, and I got a call in the middle of the workday beckoning me to come get her!)
Unfortunately, Lucy is also the first dog I have seen fall ill and have had to make the heart-wrenching decision to end the suffering for. After struggling with [what I thought were] bladder issues since June, Lucy suddenly went into full kidney failure just before New Year’s. Although an initial hospital stay and treatment offered a brief glance of hope, I knew shortly after bringing her home that she was on borrowed time. She was just not the bouncy, happy Lucy I remembered. She stopped eating completely this weekend–even turning up her nose at the “yummy” baby food they had introduced her to at the vet’s office–and once she could not move Monday night, I knew it was time. As we laid in my bed that night–a rare treat for her–I knew I was spending the last moments with my little doggie girl.
As I sat with her, again, in the vet’s office on Tuesday afternoon as she was sedated before getting the injection, I sat with her and whispered what a good dog she was and how much she had been loved. Although I had known in my heart for two weeks that this moment was going to come, I had had no idea what I would say to her, or even if I would have the “guts” to say it and sit with her as she slipped away. I’m now glad that I did. Despite all of her crazy antics, she knew in the end that I loved her for–not despite of–it all.
Lucy, this heart is for you.