When I put it out into the universe that I was ready to adopt another animal, I didn't mean that I wanted to lose one of the ones I've already got.
Lucy is sick. A kind of sick that I don't think she'll recover from. The kind of sick that is not uncommon in geriatric dogs, but this is the first dog I've ever really had. I mean, I adopted her when I was 23 years old. I am heading into my late 30s now. Through ups and downs and whatever was going in my life, I've always had Lu. And now, there's a imminent time where I won't have Lu anymore.
I am bereft with sadness. My Lucy Fur is all I've got. I mean, I've got the Senator. But if I left the front door open long enough, that fat bastard would take off & never look back. Lucy has been with me for 1/3 of my life. We go everywhere together.
I have been looking though old photos of her. May of 1998. July of 1999. December 2004. Different relationships. Different jobs. Different homes. Sometimes fat. Sometimes thin. Always Lu.
I keep trying to imagine what it will be like to come home, and not have her here. And the hollowness of that is killing me. I am broken-hearted.