Before Christmas I lost my happy little Lucy. She didn’t get to a fair age – if there is any such thing as fair. And right to the last she was only concerned with being the best canine friend she could be.
It hit my little family very hard. You see, Lucy was the best of us. She was never short-tempered, never too tired, her excitement at being with each of us never waned. Cupboard love was never an option for our Luce, the only kind of love she wanted was ours.
Our Lab, even the cat, didn’t know what to do without having Lucy to walk the fences last thing at night. Without hearing her paws purposefully cross the downstairs floor when we went to bed — checking that everything was as it should be.
Who was going to run those trespassing pigeons from the garden now?
It was a long December, and on New Years Eve I finally came to the conclusion that Lucy simply would not have had any us moping about without her.
And so our search began, not for a replacement — for nobody could ever do that, but for a new friend. Because love is love – whether is comes on two legs or four.