Sixteen years ago our 8-year-old son began a campaign that started with the words, "Can I have a dog?" That spring all my reasons why having a dog would not be a good idea fell by the wayside. Why? Because of my love of photography and William Wegman, that's why. We purchased a Weimaraner puppy and named her Lucy.
Nine years later Sam moved out and left us with the dog.
Lucy has been a good companion and a naughty doggy.
She mothered an abandoned 3-week-old kitten we took in in 2009.
She loved swimming in the river and hunting muskrats.
She used her claws to leaved deep scratches in the wood frames of the doors.
She would suddenly break out into a deep, heart-stopping bark if something was outside the house, or even more commonly, when nothing was outside the house.
She made the chair next to my computer her place. She kept me from sitting for too long by barking to go outside, and a few minutes later, barking to come back in again.
She ate half a pizza carelessly left on the kitchen counter.
She played fetch with frisbees and sticks.
And she gradually got older and older.
Yesterday she died.
And the dog that I did not want left a hole in my heart.