puppy love

One day, I went to work, and there was Lucy. I think it was a Monday. She was in a cage, in my office. I said hello, and talked to her for a while, because no one else was there. I didn't know her name, but I spoke to her about who she was and why she was there. I told her she looked like a "Lucy".

I worked for a couple who had a business based out of their home, and when they arrived home, they informed me that they had gotten a new puppy over the weekend. They said they were thinking of naming her either Zoe or Lucy. And Lucy she became.

Bailey, their previous dog, was somewhat traumatized by Lucy's presence, and after the couple had their first child a couple years later, having two dogs became less feasible for them. I jokingly offered to take Lucy off their hands, but it turned out not to be a joke, and she came to live with me.

I didn't know what it meant, before, to be best friends with a dog. It probably sounded silly to me. But she's been too much of an important presence in my life to think her friendship is silly, now. She's comforted me in times of unbearable pain and solitude, she's forced me to think of someone other than myself in times of intense self-absorption, she's shared with me some of the most joyful moments of simplicity my life has known. She's my cohort. She's my nap buddy. She's begging me to pay attention to her rather than type.