My sweet little dog Lucy suddenly and unexpectedly crossed the Rainbow Bridge 48 hours ago. It happened soon after I wrote this blog post, while walking the Dobies along our favorite stretch of the Spokane River. Lucy was excited, happily wagging her stub and hippity hopping into the park when she suddenly slowly laid down on her side and let out a cry. I fell to my knees and held her as she took her last breath. It happened that fast. One second she was here, she was fine, the next she was gone.
We are all stunned and heartbroken, to say the least. We think it was a heart attack. All of her litter had heart problems, and Lucy outlived all but one other littermate.
Words can't do justice to any of this. Not the experience, not the shock, not the love, not the grief.
We've all been embraced with more love and support than I've ever experienced before. Not just me, but also Lucy's brother Silas and all who love Lucy. It is much needed and appreciated by us all. This is an inexpressibly painful and confusing time. All I want is Lucy back. My friend Paula nailed it when she wrote on my Facebook wall:
It's your love spinning round so fast looking for her that's making you hurt. You won't stop missing her but the spinning will settle to a warm place in your heart in time. As you know.
Those of you who know me at all know that my dogs are my kids. All the love in my heart is poured into them. Lucy and I fell in love with each other 10 years ago when she was a crazy cute little 4 month-old puppy. That love grew and grew. She was (still is) the most beautiful and wonderful girl in the world, something I told her every day we were together.
I know that Lucy is still with us in spirit. I've been talking to her -- consoling her, reassuring her -- and trying to listen to her as best I can. Lucy's dad Bryon, stepmom Stacy and I have a session with our longtime animal communicator Polly Klein of Tonglen Healing Arts for Animals next Tuesday.
Silas is grieving too. He's sad and confused, and he's getting showered with love not just from me but from others he loves including zena moon workerbees Max, Abby and Shelby. Part of working here includes loving the Dobies, which they do. A lot. As Max said today, "How could you not love Lucy?"
My heart aches and my stomach hurts and my eyes burn from crying so much. And I am so incredibly grateful I was there with her, holding her sweet self and loving her as she passed.
I am grateful she didn't suffer, or have time to be scared. I am honored that she and / or God (or however it works) believed in me enough to choose me to attend Lucy's sacred passage. The connection Lucy and I recognized in each other 10 years ago is timeless. Right away we knew: she's my girl, I'm her mama. I believe we're still together in spirit, and that one day we'll be together even more intimately than we were here in the Earth realm.
I am grateful for the angel / man who stood vigil while I cradled and wept over her body for 30-45 minutes, calling Bryon and my parents. I wanted to stay there holding her forever. I kept hoping she'd suddenly take a breath and be here again. Finally my legs started hurting and I asked him to carry her to my car. He picked her up like a little baby.
I will never forget the tears in his eyes or how tenderly he laid her in the backseat, arranging her so she was settled and comfortable, fixing her ears that had flopped. (Her ears always flopped.) Or how he said that's how he hopes to go, in the sunshine, enjoying yourself up to the last possible second, then being held by someone you love as you pass quickly.
There's more -- so much more -- but that's all I'm up for right now. I want / need to share more about my girl because she's so amazingly special. Whether you comment or not, I know you are holding Lucy in your heart. Thank you.
And thank you, God, for our Lucy.
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