Lucy

 

You came into our home by accident.  

In December 2005, our family was still grieving the loss of Papa John 11 months earlier.  We went to the Beaufort County Animal Shelter looking for a cat.  You and your sister, Ginger, caught our eye instead.  Your litter had been left by the gate a few weeks earlier.  We arrived on the first day you were open for adoption.  You came to Marcia immediately.  Then, Ginger.  In pure dog life naivete, we thought, “Surely, two dogs will be as easy as one.”  So we adopted both of you.

The girls were 8 and 4 when we brought you home for the first time.  They were elated when they met you and quickly fell in love with you.  We named you after Lucy from the Chronicles of Narnia.  We had just seen The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe, and Lucy was favorite character.  She was a fierce friend who trusted deeply in Aslan. 

On Christmas Day you came down with parvo – a deadly puppy disease.  What I thought was a cheap dog adoption at the pound quickly became an expensive stay at the vet.  You survived and became a pure breed family dog to our family.  You lived into your name. 

It took a while for all of us to figure each other out.  Unfortunately, you took a side role in the family as we attempted to appease the craziness of your sister, Ginger.  I always knew you were just being a good sister when she led you to escape our fenced in yard.  She dug the hole and you just went where she led.  I never held it against you.  But you also never got the attention you deserved.

When we made the decision to help Ginger find a new home for the sanity of our family, you moved with us to Georgia.  Here, you became the family dog you were meant to be.  You chased the girls in the snow.  You found the cow patties in the back pasture and came home five shades of green.  You loved to snuggle with Marcia on the bed.  You slept with Sydney on most nights.   You helped us keep track of Sarah Margaret’s boyfriends.  And yes, every time I got out of bed in the night, you jumped up and slept on my pillow. 

In short, you loved your way into our family. 

We all knew you were getting old and that something bad was happening in your body.  Yet, like those early days of parvo, we just knew you would get through this too.  And then, you didn’t.  And now we are sad. 

We are sad because we experienced deep love with you.  You brought joy and laughter and distractions in our lives when sadness and grief had set up house.  You gave us someone to care and live for.  You helped us to find our way back into life.  For all of this and so much more, I am so grateful. 

You were a good dog, Lucy.  You were God’s gift to us.  You will live in the mythology of the Spivey family forever.  Thank you for loving us.