Quick disclaimer: There are two kinds of people in this world, animal people and people who just don’t get us. If you are one of those that doesn’t get us, you might want to skip this blog and just come back on another day.

Lucy Swims from Marah Grant Photography on Vimeo.

I’m an animal person. Specifically, a dog person. My husband and I don’t have children, but we have dogs. Dogs that we love so wholeheartedly that we spoil them rotten. We even allow them to sleep in our bed. Crazy, I know. If you know me on a personal level at all, you probably know my dogs. They’re family members to us. We don’t think of the Grants as the two of us, but the four of us. But now just three of us. I say dogs, because I’m still not used to the idea that the word dog is now singular instead of plural. I’m not used to the idea that the dog food doesn’t need to be filled as often as it used to.

This past week has been one of the hardest of my life. If you’re not an animal person then you probably think that sentence sounds overly dramatic. If you are an animal person, especially one that’s lost a pet, then you probably know exactly what I mean.

Here’s a quick overview of last week: On Sunday we came home from a weekend away and noticed Lucy was limping on her right front paw. On Monday she was limping on both right paws. I googled a little and suspected a stroke. It said dogs usually improve in a day or two if they’ve had a stroke. Tuesday she wasn’t using three out of four paws. Both back paws and the front right. We knew something was wrong and tried to get her into the vet. The earliest he could see her was Wednesday afternoon. We babied her, carried her in and outside for her potty breaks, and tried to keep her as comfortable as possible. We google more and thought maybe she’d ruptured disks in her back. The vet on Wednesday agreed that maybe it was a back problem, so he sent us to an animal ER in Ft. Wayne where they could do CAT scans and do surgery if needed. We took her in late Wednesday night and waited while they ran X-Rays. The vet came in obviously very flustered and had to tell us that Lucy had an inoperable tumor on her spine that was causing paralysis. We sobbed. We took her home and made her comfortable for the night. We spent the night in the living room to be near her and hear if she needed anything. I slept 1hr and 9 minutes according to my Jawbone. We doted and loved for one more night. Then she was put down on Thursday. Our vet even came in on his day off to help us relieve her suffering.

Our sweet Lucy seemed completely normal, young, perky healthy, and perfect… until she wasn’t. The previous week we’d been playing ball with her. She’d been running gleefully around the yard like she always did. We don’t know how long Lucy had cancer, but by the time we knew, her life had lost almost all of the qualities that made it hers. By the time we knew Lucy had cancer, she was no longer able to be… Lucy! The death of Lucy was shocking, abrupt, and scary. I’ve spent the last few days trying to put all the pieces together and overcome overwhelming emotional wounds.

If I’m honest, I had no idea how much I loved that dog until I lost her. The days leading up to her death were stressful and anxiety filled. Then after her death the hole she left in our lives was very apparent.

A few of the things I’ve learned since her death:

• She was one of the first things I’d think about as soon as I woke up in the mornings, as soon as I’d open my eyes I’d wonder where she was and if she needed anything
• I would make eye contact with her almost every time I walked into the living room
• Her breathing was loud and the sound became comforting
• As soon as we came home she was right at the door happy to see us. That kind of welcome really boosts the confidence and feeds the ego. Literally every time we showed up, she was ecstatic.

So much of my thoughts for her were part of my daily routine. They were subconscious, almost mundane, and I was unaware of what a comfort and companion she was to me.

Lucy had the ability to look into your soul. To quote my friend Lauren “She had human eyes” a full range of complex emotions, and she was able to empathize with sickness or frustration. When I was having a bad day she would try to cheer me up. When I was sick, she’d lay next to me and make sure I was ok. Who could ask for more???

We got her when she was a puppy only 6 weeks old in December of 2002. She was always a beloved pet. She was neurotic, needy, and a little too energetic. She destroyed a couple sentimental items when she was a puppy and I was so furious I didn’t think I’d ever forgive her, but looking back now I’d so much rather have had her than the items she chewed up.

Over the last three years, Lucy became my closest companion. Since my husband had become a traveler, a road warrior, I was often home alone. I used to try and avoid being home when he was out of town, but I eventually came to really enjoy the comfort of being “alone” at home because I had her. When David was gone Lucy would always come sleep right next to me. She’d check up with me more often. She’d nudge me with her nose and pace the house looking for David, letting me know that she missed him too. We were in it together. So much about being home meant being with her. Now that she’s gone… I feel like I’m not home. Or not AS home? It’s unsettling and I’m having trouble finding a way to be fully at ease when I’m home.

Since she’s been gone I’ve cried so many times that I’m officially chronically dehydrated. I have cried more over her death than any human death I’ve ever experienced. I started to feel like that was ridiculous, but then I realized I’ve never lost a human that was part of my household. Lucy was a massive part of my daily routine and I’ve decided that it’s ok to cry about it.

Through the tears I’ve had two resounding emotions. Love and gratitude. When we went to the vet for Lucy’s final moments the vet got choked up as he told us “you gave her a good life”. He’s right. We did. But more amazing are all the things she gave us through her life. We have nothing but happy memories of her and I’m so so so so grateful that WE got to be HER people. I’m so thankful that we were allowed to love and experience her. I don’t think I’d be the same person I am today if I hadn’t shared the last 12 years of my life with that silly, crazy, funny, loving dog. In some ways I feel like she raised me and not the other way around.

Here are cell phone pictures of some photos that were in a scrapbook. Some of the first photos we ever took of Lucy.

Here’s the first photo ever. Early December of 2002. I got her for David as a late 21st birthday present/early Christmas present and as a companion for Cody, who would get lonely during the day when we were away at work or school.

I didn’t chose her at the pound. She chose me.
She begged me with her cries and eyes to take her home. I held her once and suddenly didn’t care about any other dog in the place. She was the one!

This was our first Christmas as a married couple. We sent a similar photo out in our Christmas card that year.

One time we thought it’d be really cute to buy her a sweater… I’m pretty sure she ate it off. She hated it.

And another time we bought her a dog bed and she ate the bottom right out of the bed leaving only a ring of stuffing around her. When we found her sitting in the middle of the ring it was too funny not to document.

Here are some from about five years ago…

Three years ago…

She did nap a lot, but I realized most of the photos I have of her are when she was laying around… mostly because it was hard to get shots of her in motion. The photo below is more of her natural state.

Just last winter, galloping through the snow…

And only two hours before she passed… You can see in her expressive eyebrows that she’s miserable.

A few things about Lucy that I never want to forget:

• Her dislikes included: fireworks, storms, meter readers, Jehovah’s Witnesses, bikes, cats, tall men, and anyone that wanted to sniff her butt.
• Her favorite snacks or treats were: cheese, peanut butter, ice-cream, watermelon, any meat, eggs, and really any table scraps.
• She was never far from David. She usually stayed within 10 feet of him any time he was home. He called her his shadow.
• She knew she needed to be gentle with children and would tolerate rough petting for them. Last Christmas my three year old nephew Wyatt tried to ride her like a horse and she did a smooth army crawl out from under him.
• She had a red ball that was like her pacifier or security blanket. She LOVED that thing! She would play ball for hours and never get tired of it. Sometimes we’d find her sleeping with her ball right next to her head. Sometimes she’d even have her paws on it when she nodded off.
• She had the BEST active dreams! Running and barking as she was asleep was pretty common with her.
• Although she weighed about 70 pounds, she thought she was a bit of a lap dog. When we lived in Webster we just had one small couch in the house and she always insisted on being on it with us.
• When we got her from the pound she was listed as a “Rottweiler” and her name was Lady. We changed it to Lucy, which means Light. She’s obviously mostly black lab, but we think she may have had a little dalmatian in her.
• She would easily make friends with gregarious women. They were her favorite.
• We thought she hated water until she sort of fell into the lake one day by accident… and then we couldn’t get her to stay out of the lake.
• She would point when she smelled something interesting. Always cute when she’d do that.
• Her preferred sleeping spot was on our bed, under the covers. If we were out of town we’d always come home to a messy bed, because she’d made a tunnel for herself to get under the covers to sleep comfortably.
• Sometimes she’d get mad at Cody and when she did a ridge of the hairs on her back would stand up.
• In her later years she used to do this hilarious grunting noise. It could mean she was tired or annoyed… or happy. You just had to read the context. David could get her to do it at will.
• Lucy let us know when we were arguing too much. Every marriage has their little spats. When we’d have one that was a little too lively, she’d cower and shake and we immediately knew we needed to check our attitudes. I loved that sensitive side of her.
• I believe her life honored her Creator, and I believe that God was honored by how we treated her and gave her a home. What a wonderful bit of creation she was!

What an amazing friend. She’s irreplaceable, that’s for sure!
So, one last time I’d like to say, “Who’s a pretty girl? Lucy is! Lucy’s a pretty girl!”

Lovely Lady Lucy, a huge light in my life.

iPad Test from david grant on Vimeo.