Sunday

Amy got home and we started trying to cope with our loss. She has gone to bed because she worked over night and has to work again tonight. I went to church for the early service. I am glad that I did. The pastor had scrapped his plan to start a new series today and instead focused on the sense he had that so many of us are struggling and hurting. How true for me.



I had the fortune of seeing the Perrys. They had already read about Lucy and they offered me comfort. Their son Sheridan was there too, and when I picked him up he tried to steal my nose!

While driving to church I tried to call my parents to tell them about Lucy. I reached my mom on the way there. On the way home I tried my father again and left a voice message. He called back about 10 minutes later, so I have made it through explaining it to them.

When I got home there was an emptiness.

Usually when we get home from church I enter first and walk down to the kitchen and into the laundry room where Lucy would be starting to stand up and stretch in her kennel, waiting to be let out for the afternoon.

Today there is no Lucy. There is no kennel. There is a space where there should not be and it is not limited to being a physical space.

I regret the times I refered to Lucy as "your" dog when talking to Amy.

We easily expected another 10 years or more with Lucy. She was often a pain to deal with, an inconvenience, an obligation, an annoyance, but damn if I don't miss her already and become more and more aware that I loved her.