Not My Mother's 60: January 2015

Hello readers (aka family and friends!). A lot of life has happened since I began my journey into "super adulthood". My adventures continue, and I have made a promise to myself to share them in the weeks and months ahead.

Today, one of the saddest moments that a pet owner must endure prompted my return to blogging. We had to say goodbye to our wonderful girl Lucy. Writing helps me heal, and the following post is my tribute to Sweet Miss Lucy....

She must have been a beautiful baby. I can imagine a creamy blonde bundle of fluff, small for her breed, and likely the most mellow of her litter. A precious Golden Retriever who would have brought joy to any family. Instead she became breeding bitch G-75 - according to her ear tattoo - and was doomed to life in a cage at a puppy mill. A commodity - the canine incubator of profitable pups as beautiful and kind as their mother. If not for the expensive C-section needed to deliver her last litter, G-75’s story would have ended differently. Instead, that C-section led her to us. Lucy’s life truly began when she picked us as her family.

Lucy made every day better. She was perfect, and we are heartbroken that she is gone. But sweet Miss Lucy has left us with some important life lessons. Our old dog taught us a lot about how to live one’s days....

Never say never

Hubby and I had been a dog-free household for five years. We were never going to have another dog. After our last Golden, Tracy, died suddenly, the pain of her loss was something we could not imagine going through again. But I was ready. So was hubby. We opted for a rescue and began the process of adoption. Within 3 weeks, I saw her on the list of available Goldens. Saved from the shelter where she had been discarded. They had named G-75 Julie Lynn, and we knew she was The One! She was our Lucy.

Forget the past, find joy in the present

Lucy’s first life must have been horrific. Yet, except for a couple of avoidable phobias - the sound of rustling plastic bags, water from the hose - she was extraordinarily calm, kind, and friendly to every dog, cat, kid and creature she ever met. Every day we could feel Lucy’s appreciation for the life we gave her - it was in her eyes, in her very presence. Lucy was content in the present - so were we!

Live and let live

Nothing riled Lucy, including our wild backyard bunnies! Over the years, the past Hultman pooches gave them a run for their money...and sadly, they provided an occasional bunny meal. Not Miss Lucy. They learned quickly that she had no interest in chasing their little cotton tails. It was comical to see them happily grazing on the grass nearby as Lucy found her perfect pee spot - which never overlapped with their nightly salad greens!

Uphill battles are worth the effort

We had to teach Lucy a lot - puppy mills are void of stairs, car rides, toys and no pee zones! Each night’s journey upstairs to bed began with her thoughtful navigation of 14 steps. We could “see” her brain at work...”Okay, take one step up with one front paw....now another....hmm, now one step with the opposite hind leg...that’s it! Now repeat with the other front, other back and so on, and so on”.....every night for almost 5 years, we beamed like proud parents when she made it upstairs to the bedroom and her favorite spot on my side of the bed. Even in her weakest state, she insisted on fighting her upstairs battle, and slept peacefully with her people.

Greet your loved ones with glee

Coming home today, we felt the void as we drove up our long driveway. I was with Lucy most of the time (the luxury of working from home), but if left outside, she would wait patiently on the side yard, under the shade of the lemon tree until we returned. We delighted in finding her gazing attentively as we turned in the driveway, perking up once she confirmed our arrival - then dashing to the other side of the yard to gleefully bark her “Welcome Back - I’m so glad you are home!” Homecomings were filled with joy!

Live life with wags not growls

Lucy never, never, ever growled. Never! She feared no one, and assumed everyone loved her as much as we did. She actually loved the company of people more than pups! Dog park visits were less fun to Lucy than our favorite breakfast spot, where we were known as “Lucy, party of 3.” We would wait patiently for our table, and she would wag her tail and gently tug on her leash to get closer to those seated nearby. She was an unofficial therapy dog, and a kind lady once said, “I feel better just by seeing her.” She had that effect on people.

Face life’s challenges with grace

Lucy’s “G-75” years left her physically weakened. She wasn't strong enough to jump or stand on her hind legs, and tore her doggie ACL shortly after we got her. She endured surgery, steel plates, and 8 weeks confined to a small indoor space, followed by physical therapy until she could take walks again. Lucy handled the ordeal with calm resolve - and only a few whimpers. It was her first battle - and sadly not her last - and with each one, her tail wagged, she loved her doctors, and faced each and every battle- including the last - with her Lucy spirit intact.

Our sweet girl was a special gentle spirit, and we feel blessed beyond words to have filled her final years with the love she deserved. It was an honor to share Lucy with so many, who were somehow drawn to her when in her presence. While the pain we feel today is hard to bear, we will be forever grateful that she found us.

Sweet dreams, Sweet Baby Girl. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MHXFRGwjSzU