Lou Lou Belle, Loose-Ma-Goose, our Sweet Lucy girl turned 3 yesterday. 1,095 days young - 21 if we're counting dog years but we won't, Sweet Lucy will never be anything other than a puppy to me. She came in to my life at a time I needed her more than anything - that old adage "Who rescued who" rings so true (who cares if by rescue I mean traded hundreds of dollars for... we needed each other).
I told my mother I wanted a puppy for Christmas (28 year olds can still ask for puppies from Santa...) - she agreed until I told her I had my eye on an English Mastiff. A what? You mean one of those Shetland pony size dogs?!?! I had done a lot of research on the breed and just knew this was the dog for me. I grew up with Dachshunds, which are awesome too, but I wanted a DOG. A big, protective, loud, human sized dog. I waited to even consider getting a dog until I had a house with a fenced in yard so they could have lots of room... and so I could install a dog door so I could sleep in (haha). A Mastiff it was - I considered nothing else.
I found a few Mastiff's at shelters in the area but since I had no experience with a dog weighing more than 10 pounds - ever, I was not a feasible candidate to adopt one.
Well, if they won't give me one I'll buy one. I found a breeder in the area who had 4 week old puppies and invited my mom to... you know... just look, not buy on a December Christmas shopping day. She knew exactly what would happen. I would leave a poorer person after putting down a deposit.
She was right. She usually is.
When we got there Lucy's dad, all 200 pounds of him, greeted mom and I at the car. As we walked towards the puppies he ran around us, his tail spanking mom on the butt - she fell onto all fours. She looked back at me with shocked eyes and asked what I was doing to her. Poor mama.
Until we went into that tiny smelly poor excuse for a puppy room and laid eyes on the cutest squeakiest balls of puppy ever. Mom and I each grabbed one, little Lucy looked up at me and gave me a kiss on the cheek and I was done. She was mine. For all of one minute mom tried to talk me into the other but I knew, the one in my hand was my Sweet Lucy.
|Mama holding Lucy (her left hand) and Lucy's sister|
|Lucy the day she came home. I left the tree up so she could have Christmas too.|
She loves us unconditionally and the pure joy she has every morning when we wake and evening when we come home melts my heart. While I no longer can pick you up your hugs are still the best. Happiest of birthdays to you Sweet Lucy Girl. You have taught me patience and understanding - thank you.