Good Dog, Lucy

Lucy and Sam's leg. Lucy almost never stopped moving, even up to the end, so we have almost no decent pictures of her.  If there is a black blur in a photo, it's probably Lucy. 

I had to have Lucy put to sleep last Friday.  She was 14 1/2, and she was a good dog.  A pain in the neck, but a good dog. 

When she was almost a year old, and I was pregnant with the Drama Queen, she got into some rat poison and almost died of internal bleeding.  We joked at the time that I should have stayed at work an hour longer. Then she wouldn't have made it, and saved us a lot of time, money and trouble, but we didn't mean it. 

The Drama Queen almost didn't learn to walk, because every time the baby stood up and tried to take a step, Lucy was there "helping" her.  The kids would complain, "Mom!  Lucy WAGGED me again!", because she had the world's most extraordinarily powerful tail, and she was a very happy dog.

Lucy was, I am sure, greeted at Heaven's Gate by all the other creatures she sent before her.  There were a few turtles, some baby bunnies, a hamster, a parakeet (that last one is a story best left untold). 

Our other dog, Stella, seems to be doing okay.  She's been laying in Lucy's spot on my bedroom floor, and may be losing weight because she no longer gets to steal half of Lucy's food.  She spent a day sitting in the hallway, unwilling to budge, but I think that was probably more because she's waiting for Sam to come home from Boy Scout camp than Lucy. 

I was doing okay until yesterday, when I checked the mail and found a sympathy card from the vet's office, signed by the entire staff. 

Good Dog, Lucy!