25 April 2012


About 2 weeks ago, my dog Lucy died. Lucy was our first family dog. The first dog that stuck at least. We had a lab before her, (his name went back from Ringo to Rico and never became certain) but he was too big for us. Lucy was just right. These feelings are only in hindsight.

We got her from an Indian store.

Yes. An Indian store.

My brother and I went together and there were two MinPins to choose from. I think it was Lucy and her bro.

We picked Lucy. She was demure. I don't remember how she got home but when she did, she didn't like me. She snarled, hissed and preferred to stay in dark corners. So I left her alone.

I also don't remember how we finally became friends but she was the funniest, most loving dog ever. And she fit our misfit family.

Lucy gave birth to 2 litters.

The dad was a deadbeat neighborhood chihuahua that my brother named Pablo.

In the last litter, there were nine pups. One had a triangle of white hair on his neck and extra toes. So he became our Ricky and Lucy's arch nemesis from that day forward.

And now we just have Ricky. He's filling the void well. He sleeps riiiiiight next to us, sits on our toes, likes soft things, licks everything and... there's just nothing wrong with him. Especially after he stopped peeing inside the house.

The loss was big. I feel grateful and pathetic to tell you that she's the first great loss in my life. I'm moving on she's still alive in our memory.

Lucy lived a life that her owners mourned. You can say she's just a dog, but she was a good dog. A protector, a best friend, a playmate... what a good dog should be.

I wasn't sure what this post should be, a eulogy or pet humor. Hope you'll just take it for what it is!
Just a pet lover remembering her friend.

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