What Love Does
“This is what love does.”
I hesitate to start with that phrase. Some might not agree that what we did was love. Others may think that we waited too long. All I know is that sometimes life and love can be described as a shade of murky gray rather than a crisp black or white.
Lucy. Before her, I’d never really loved another living being other than a human. The depth of connection with this sweet girl took me by surprise. She loved the way we all long to be loved: an unadulterated, straight-up, profound love that you could return to over and over. She presented as forgiving when we got it wrong, welcomed everyone she met, and let others love her. Eternal optimism came naturally to Lucy just like those golden curls and rootbeer eyes she was gifted with at birth. Despite walking a well-worn trail dozens of times, it was nose down, tail up, going at a healthy trot.
At 14 years old Lucy had moments of prancing when she walked, expressions of utter joy when she saw her manpack, and enough grit to jump on a lap for her nightly scratch. What sat next to pockets of joy were hours of discomfort and difficulties due to health conditions that the best medical treatment couldn’t fully wrestle to the ground. Over time it was apparent that life was more about enduring it than enjoying it.
As her body started to fail, her spirit didn’t. Even when everyday life slid toward complicated and exhausting, she persisted. Lucy didn’t bat an eye when her prance turned to that of a stumbling toddler, when getting off the floor became an arduous push-up or when the daily regime of pills was equivalent to her age. But we winced every time and love couldn’t ignore it.
A tremendous weight of grief accompanied the thought of letting our girl go, yet we knew it was what our version of love would do. After multiple conversations, reading, weeping, and considering options, we mapped out Lucy’s next adventure. Taking the cues from others who’ve walked this road before us, we claimed a time to savor and celebrate our life together: short walks, car rides, a visit with the horses, and a trip to say goodbye to Grandma.
On Saturday morning, April 15th after a final jaunt around her ranch and down her road, we feed our Lucy her favorite meal of tuna. And as planned, a compassionate vet* joined us in our home who, on the heels of tuna delight fed Lucy homemade chicken meatballs and Hershey’s kisses (toxic to dogs but in the final moments a balm for both human and doggie souls).
Still licking her lips, we held her and pressed our faces into her fur while kissing and savoring her nuzzles and reciting well-worn phrases. Love you, sweet girl. We see you, girl. We’ve got you. Mama loves you. Papa loves you. We’re here sweet girl…Softly and oh so gently her body and soul were released from suffering and into her next great adventure.
The absolute difficulty of that decision still lingers. In the darkest moments, we find comfort in remembering this was our final act of love for a dog that loved us so well. “This is what love does.”
We’re still grieving but the grief is now accompanied by utmost gratitude for having Lucy as part of our life. While I can’t fully explain it, her spirit is somehow present. Thank you for loving us well sweet girl. We love you!
Lucy Jo Field 2009 - 2023
For a list of resources that were of help as we walked through this decision and that supported us in our grieving, don’t hesitate to reach out:: Marla@LifeEditTherapy.com
*I highly recommend Dr. Cate Szurek - Peaceful Promise Veterinary Hospice