We said goodbye to our precious Lulu Girl yesterday morning. Heart heavy doesn’t even begin
to describe the depth of our sorrow. Our
hearts, all three of them, are shredded.
It’s been a long, busy few weeks in our corner
of the world. Selling the big house was
bittersweet and exhausting for sure, and attending to Luna as the ravages of
cancer (and god only knows what else) overtook her body, was an added layer
that kept us up at night and vigilant each day.
What we wanted most of all was for her not to
suffer, ever, AT ALL. I can’t be fully
assured that she was pain-free, we know she was increasingly uncomfortable, but
I think we did our best to make sure her last days were as easy as they could
possibly be, and full of snuggles and treats - lots and lots of yummy treats.
For weeks, I’ve maintained regular contact
with our amazing vet, Kelly. She and I
communicated countless times as we worked to keep Luna’s quality of life in
check. In the end, we knew we needed to
make the difficult, and humane, decision to let her go.
Twelve and half years seems to have sped by in
a blink, though we know this isn’t so.
Wasn’t it just yesterday when we brought the tiny, irresistible, fuzzy
brown bundle of sheer cuteness and energy home?
We fully understand that dogs never live long
enough, but boy do they LIVE while they are here. We should all take notice of how they capture
each moment for all it’s worth, and find such joy in the small, seemingly
meaningless bits that life sends their way.
They never question or ponder “what ifs”. Humans will never be able to emulate the
unconditional ways in which dogs give so freely, without regard for anything in
return (though treats of any kind do help).
Dog owners get this. You can be
gone five days, five hours or five minutes (because you forgot your grocery
list on the kitchen table again and had to return to the house), and their
unencumbered, pure exuberance upon seeing you walk back through the door is
unmatched.
Our girl Luna was born on the night of a full
moon, and so her name only seemed fitting.
She was also our Luna Lu, Lulu, Lu, Loonie, Best Girl, and of course,
Coopie’s big sister, which means she should also have been named Patience.
Make no mistake, though Cooper was clearly in
charge of their relationship, he adored his big sister. In fact, he relied on her for his sense of
balance and safety in ways we may never fully grasp. She was his security blanket, his snuggle
buddy and his walking pal. He is lost
without her, which tears at my heart more than words can express. We are all lost without her, and though we
know her tired old body is now at rest and that we will find our way in time,
today the heartbreak is crushing.
I will never forget bringing Cooper home
several years ago. He was a frightened,
traumatized, malnourished wreck of an animal.
We tried a crate the first few nights in our kitchen, right next to
Luna’s bed, thinking this would be the best way for him to settle in. He was having none of it. After three nights of cries and whimpers, and
midnight attempts to settle him, I finally opened the crate door. He immediately exited and curled up around
his new sister, Lulu, and found comfort in the bundle of love that was now
his. She never balked or questioned, and
spent many occasions with him wrapped around (or seated on top of) her. There was no such thing as too close. Lulu Girl was his comfort in the every-day
and in times of stress, and their connection ran deep.
Thankfully for Cooper, and for all of us
really, Lulu was, in a nutshell, the poster-dog of LOVE. She adored humans of every kind, but
especially the little ones. Children
were a dream come true to her, and anytime she could sidle up to one or lick
the face of another, her wiggly contentment and joy was undeniable. On her last days she still rallied from her
weary state to wag her tail and let it be known that she was thrilled for the
visit. She was our happy, loveable
goofball of a girl from beginning to end.
I have braced myself for this day for several
weeks now, and in that time I’ve called upon Lulu’s beloved Gramma Georgia to
be ready for our girl when the time came.
In Luna’s early years, she and Georgia were quite a duo. When Georgia still lived in her home just
behind ours, she would always welcome a visit from her four-legged
sweetie. Cheerios at the ready in a
muzzle-height kitchen cabinet, Luna would patiently (or not so patiently) wait
as her “O’s” were poured onto the floor.
We would often leave Luna with Georgia if we needed to be away for a few
hours. They snuggled together on the
couch, watching TV, or took little walks around the yard. Luna always stayed close. In Georgia’s eyes she was a perfect girl,
which of course, was nothing short of absolutely true.
After Georgia needed to move from her home,
Luna would gaze up the yard or take a visit to her back door, never quite
understanding where her precious Gramma had gone. As the ugly grips of dementia took Luna from
Georgia’s memory, it broke our hearts to know that our girl had been
forgotten. But I fully believe that she
wasn’t forgotten at all. I believe in
the power of spirit energy, and with that comes great comfort. I know Georgia has been waiting for Luna all
this time, and was there on this difficult day, to welcome her home with open
arms and plenty of “O’s”. It is what
gets me through the agonizing moments when I look for her and catch my breath,
remembering that she has meandered on up the road.
We were all together when the time came for
her final visit to the vet. In perfect
Luna form, she sought out treats from the staff and wagged her droopy
tail. She gave some final kisses and
received many more from us. Then as the
sedative began to take hold, she lay between us in a restful, peaceful
state. Cooper, the prince that he is,
climbed over me and lay alongside his Lulu, head to head, to the end. How do you even make sense of that? Love.
Pure love, is all I can wrestle up.
I wish I could say we found an instant sense
of relief and peace in that moment. I
suppose we did in some ways, but her passing has unearthed a deep well of
loss. It isn’t meant to be any other
way, I suppose. I’ve yet to figure out
how to dodge heartache in its truest forms, and this one is no different. We are heartbroken. The loss of our girl has left a hole of
immense proportions.
Animals aren’t meant to be humanized, or so
the experts say. I don’t even know who
these experts are. It doesn’t even
matter. What I do know is that Lulu Girl
held the position of CEO of Love in our family.
Anyone who knew her, like it or not, recieved a lick (leg licks were her
favorite) and a side-snuggle. If you
can’t find goodness in that, then well, so be it. She was our best girl and those licks will be
sorely missed.
Bob and I have grappled with our decision the
past day or so. To keep her here any
longer would mean suffering on her part.
To let her go, leaves us holding the bag of precious memories of a girl
we will forever miss. It is that darn,
breath-stopping missing that has set in once again - an impossible, but inevitable result of letting
someone deeply precious go.
We brought our beautiful girl home, still warm
to the touch, and we buried her between the apple trees behind our garden. Anyone who knew our Lulu Girl knows that
apples were her favorite (among pretty much every other kind of food!), and so
we thought it only fitting that she rest beneath the shade and bounty of these
beloved fruit trees.
Not surprisingly, but surely
heart-wrenchingly, Cooper is lost without her.
I desperately hoped that wouldn’t be so, but it is. This too shall pass. We will all find a new rhythm. Me and “my boys” will make our way one day at
at time.
What is most striking, I suppose, is that our
family is small to begin with and Lulu Girl became, therefore, the matriarch
(in a goofy, furry, loveable sense). She
was our day-to-day touchstone who saw this family through many dark days, and
brightened them in her ever-faithful, undemanding, honey-sweet way that only
a Lulu Girl could do.
We know this is why our hearts feel so
shredded today, and likely in the days to come.
Someone deeply cherished has left our family, and we are forever changed
once again.
Rest easy, Best Girl.💛
