A new family member

Today as I was driving home from work, stuck in Seattle’s “Viadoom” traffic, I started thinking about the next part of this story.  So many things could have happened differently, and it leads me to wonder if I would have found running without Lucy.  Did I find running, or did running find me?  Was this something that was destined to happen for me, whether it involved Lucy or not?  I’d like to think that eventually, somehow running would have happened.  But I just can’t discount Lucy’s role in this whole adventure. 

When I picked Lucy out at the same animal shelter I got Maya from, it was an entirely different experience.  After a few months of recovery from the Maya incident and hesitancy over trying again, my dad decided to drive out to NYC from my hometown in western NY and come with me.  It felt right having family with me to make this choice.  After all, I was adding another member to our family. 

We drove out to Long Island this time, fully prepared.  I’d bought a crate, had new chew toys ready and waiting, even pee pads laid out on the floor.  We walked into the same puppy room, crates stacked ceiling to floor, filled with little balls of noisy energy.  My eyes moved straight to another little black lab with white-tipped ears, but my golden-retriever loving dad pointed to a little golden colored puppy in the crate just above it.  Her ears were so floppy it seemed like she might trip over them.  She came excitedly to the door when we said hi, pushing her paws up against the bars.  I was torn…try again or start afresh?

I’m a girl who tends to listen when her dad talks, and something drew me to that little puppy when I finally held her.  I decided that a fresh start was the way to go.  The volunteers at the animal shelter estimated that she’d weigh about 50 lbs and was most likely a lab/hound mix.  The face of a lab, with the floppy ears of a hound.  Lucy’s current weight of a lanky, lean 75 lbs goes to prove that those “estimations” are seemingly random guesses.

I hugged her tight the whole car ride home, and we took her into my new apartment.  My roommates and I had rented a loft in an old burlap bag factory and spent about 6 weeks building walls for 2 bedrooms and 2 large closets.  We’d puppy proofed everything, and we were ready. 

My dad and I took time thinking of a name.  My dad, a big Beatle’s fan, had named all of his Golden Retrievers after Beatles songs.  He had a Sunny named for Sunshine Days when he and my mom started our family.  Our current family dog was named Abbey for Abbey Road.  We went through our mental file folders of Beatle’s references and landed on Lucy.  Lucy in the sky with diamonds. 

Everything felt right.  Lucy was a part of our family.  And like many members of our family, Lucy had a lot of energy.  A LOT of energy.  She ran circles around the apartment, playing and barking at every noise.  And she had sharp teeth, and a strong jaw.  She could devour the toughest chew toy in minutes.  This did not bode well for personal belongings in the apartment.  It was from this moment on that the battle to kill Lucy’s energy started.

Right now, as I sit here writing this, Lucy is asleep at the foot of my couch, curled up around my feet.  She’s peacefully snoring and every now and then kicks her feet and lets out a muffled yelp as she chases something in her dreams.  It’s hard to believe she used to be that puppy.  The day I got Lucy, I had no idea where life would take me.  All I knew then was that I had made the first step towards taking my life in a different direction.