I said "I love you" to my Lucy Girl for the last time in October 2005. Two years have passed and I found myself sobbing as I reading the story of Roy. Time has eased the acute pain of losing my precious friend but that dull ache remains in heart.I discovered what hurts me. As much as she loved me, I could not save her. I could not prevent her from feeling the pains of aging. I could not keep her from slipping out of this world. If I could have given her anything, it might have been immortality. However, to be in this life without the the only person she ever loved would have been cruel. Logically, I know Lucy has a wonderful, love-filled, full life. Illogically, I feel that I failed her. And yet, I know I didn't.
Like many other stories, Lucy loved me. From the time she was 6 weeks old, she was my unwavering companion. She lived with me while I had a roomate with her own cat. She kept me sane when I quit my job, moved to another city and became a full-time college student living alone. She, begrudgingly, accepted my husband and two stepkids. And yet, her devotion to me remained steadfast and true.
She made me laugh when she would drool, just a little, because she was so happy to see me. Even if I was only gone for a few hours. For 14 years, she would bring her little red playtoy (never replaced) to bed. She would start chirping somewhere in the dark and eventually she would make her way to the bed to lay beside my stomach. Only then, was I able to fall into a contented sleep.
She loved to lay in my lap. Or on my chest as we slept in the recliner. She never stopped kneading her special blanket. She would gently grab just a little in her mouth and knead herself into a deep kitty sleep. She would purr so happily when I buried my nose into her soft white chest fur. And I am so happy that for 14 years, I was able to experience that love from my green-eyed girl.
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