Lucy

Written By Marla Field

March 2, 2021

Lucy.  She’s 12.  Some say that is 84 in dog years.  But I’m not sure age has anything to do with this sweet little ritual that we do every day.  Sometimes she just lays her head on my lap.  Other times she stands in front of me, her gentle rootbeer eyes gazing into mine.  

Like most any dog owner I start my predictable attempt at deciphering her non-verbal doggie signals. I mentally browse the litany of when she was last fed, provided fresh water, and when exactly it was that she “did her business.”  

I head to the door, asking if she wants to go out but she stays fastened to the floor, her patient gaze still fixed on me. That’s when I wake up and enter into the beauty.  I think my sweet Lucy just wants to be seen, to know that she’s on my radar. She just wants love.

I hear myself softly say, “I see you, Lucy. I see you, girl.” My breathing slows, and I think hers does too. In those moments as I run my fingers over her golden locks, I melt as we share this moment, connecting with this faithful friend. What a gift she has just given me. After a few minutes of sweet connection, she returns to one of her favorite spots by a large window and lays down her aging body, seemingly content and ready for her next nap.  

If you are willing, take a few deep breaths, exhaling slowly each time. Compassionately consider the following:

Who are the Lucy's in your life? Who just needs to be seen, acknowledged, touched? 

What keeps you from allowing yourself to be seen? To be tended to? To be loved?