Lucy was part of the family before Henry, Francie or Mary. For about six months she was
the star of the show: she slept upstairs in the bedroom, went to puppy school, and was basically
the center of attention. These were happy days for her.
Then Henry came along and pretty much stole the spotlight. Somehow—with the
addition of a baby—we thought it’d probably be best if Lucy slept downstairs. And, in the course
of things, she found herself in a distant second place in almost every way. Walks were shorter &
fewer. There just wasn’t as much time to be throwing sticks in the lake for her to swim out to and
bring back.
Francie joined the pack a couple years after Henry, and Lucy moved even further from
the center of the world. And by the time Mary was born, Lucy had probably been tugged on,
poked, and jumped over more than she’d been petted. And she was as at least as happy as when
she was as a puppy. Lucy just wanted to be with us. And she was. Always there. Always home.
Often sleeping & often snoring (loudly). It never occurred to me that I would miss the sound of
her snoring. I’m going to miss it.
This morning, as I was telling the kids that Lucy had died peacefully during the night, I
realized that she lived her whole life without ever getting angry with anyone, or making anybody
feel bad. So there’s a little bit of comfort in that.
The JB Family, Morgantown, WV
