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February 8, 2011 Sweet Lucy
This is our dog, Lucy.
It is a scan from a contact sheet of photographs I took in 1978 with my Canon AE-1. When the digital photography engineers finally
create a way to duplicate what film can do, well, we will really, really have something then.
Lucy's father was an enormous black lab with a wonderful, wagging disposition who found it quite impossible to resist the significant
charms of another neighbor's Springer Spaniel. Lucy's mother was as sweet as she could be and was happy with or without the
attentions of the big wagging black Lab from nearby. Neither of the parents belonged to us. Some time after one unauthorized visit by
the Lab, Lucy's mom brought forth five tiny Labaniel?? puppies.
I first spotted Lucy and her four siblings one beautiful Springtime Sunday morning romping through the tall grass with their mother
near Lake Chatfield in Littleton, Colorado when they were only four weeks old. After a visit with their owners, several visits with Lucy
and her siblings and four more weeks of the pups getting used to being alive, Lucy moved to our house for good.
She had the physcial appearance of a Lab but was the size of her Spaniel mother. Lucy learned to chase, catch and return a Frisbee
as well and any whippet ever dreamed. She took great joy from the Frisbee chase and leaped great distances to catch them. From
beginning to end, she loved Frisbee her whole life. Lucy considered it to be her life's work to retrieve any rolled-up newspaper that
she saw and bring it to me with a look of enormous satisfaction for a job well done. No neighbors' paper was ever safe. The
inevitable treat was undoubtedly a factor in her persistence. They were never withheld.
When she was two years old, Lucy had her first epileptic seizure. Epilepsy is not uncommon in Springers and we knew her mother
had the disease, but we hoped there was enough Labrador in her to keep her from the burden. From then on, Lucy took medication
every day to reduce the frequency and intensity of the seizures. She was wonderfully good natured about it all and always seemed to
be aware that we were trying to help her. She only spit out her pills due to their bad taste. Mixed with cheese or any other reasonable
dog treat, she was a willing patient. Lucy always considered her illness as a routine part of life. She greeted each day as part of her
adventure. She loved her life. I have learned important things from all my dogs.
Our son was born in the fall of 1982. Lucy had a natural curiosity about the new little guy in the house. After only one lecture, she
grasped that he was to be protected as one of us...and so he was from the get-go. To Lucy we were four from the moment of our
son's arrival. A mere nine months later, our son emphatically pronounced his first multi-word phrase from his high chair in the
kitchen, "Lucy out!", with feeling. Lucy dutifully strolled out her dog door into the back yard with the fresh realization that she now had 3
bosses. We still laugh at that memory.
By the time she was eight years old, the seizures became unbearably long and tortuously intense, despite medication. We held her
and talked to her through them all and then she would resume life as if nothing had happened. She finally had a seizure that would
not stop. She died in my arms as I talked gently to her so she would know she was not alone. With all her inherited loveliness, there
is not doubt in my mind that Lucy would defend me, Cheri or Evan from any perceived threat even at the risk of her own life. Our
memory of her is strong. We still celebrate that she was part of our lives. Lucy was as wonderful a dog as ever lived. And she was
loved.
This is our dog, Lucy.
It is a scan from a contact sheet of photographs I took in 1978 with my Canon AE-1. When the digital photography engineers finally
create a way to duplicate what film can do, well, we will really, really have something then.
Lucy's father was an enormous black lab with a wonderful, wagging disposition who found it quite impossible to resist the significant
charms of another neighbor's Springer Spaniel. Lucy's mother was as sweet as she could be and was happy with or without the
attentions of the big wagging black Lab from nearby. Neither of the parents belonged to us. Some time after one unauthorized visit by
the Lab, Lucy's mom brought forth five tiny Labaniel?? puppies.
I first spotted Lucy and her four siblings one beautiful Springtime Sunday morning romping through the tall grass with their mother
near Lake Chatfield in Littleton, Colorado when they were only four weeks old. After a visit with their owners, several visits with Lucy
and her siblings and four more weeks of the pups getting used to being alive, Lucy moved to our house for good.
She had the physcial appearance of a Lab but was the size of her Spaniel mother. Lucy learned to chase, catch and return a Frisbee
as well and any whippet ever dreamed. She took great joy from the Frisbee chase and leaped great distances to catch them. From
beginning to end, she loved Frisbee her whole life. Lucy considered it to be her life's work to retrieve any rolled-up newspaper that
she saw and bring it to me with a look of enormous satisfaction for a job well done. No neighbors' paper was ever safe. The
inevitable treat was undoubtedly a factor in her persistence. They were never withheld.
When she was two years old, Lucy had her first epileptic seizure. Epilepsy is not uncommon in Springers and we knew her mother
had the disease, but we hoped there was enough Labrador in her to keep her from the burden. From then on, Lucy took medication
every day to reduce the frequency and intensity of the seizures. She was wonderfully good natured about it all and always seemed to
be aware that we were trying to help her. She only spit out her pills due to their bad taste. Mixed with cheese or any other reasonable
dog treat, she was a willing patient. Lucy always considered her illness as a routine part of life. She greeted each day as part of her
adventure. She loved her life. I have learned important things from all my dogs.
Our son was born in the fall of 1982. Lucy had a natural curiosity about the new little guy in the house. After only one lecture, she
grasped that he was to be protected as one of us...and so he was from the get-go. To Lucy we were four from the moment of our
son's arrival. A mere nine months later, our son emphatically pronounced his first multi-word phrase from his high chair in the
kitchen, "Lucy out!", with feeling. Lucy dutifully strolled out her dog door into the back yard with the fresh realization that she now had 3
bosses. We still laugh at that memory.
By the time she was eight years old, the seizures became unbearably long and tortuously intense, despite medication. We held her
and talked to her through them all and then she would resume life as if nothing had happened. She finally had a seizure that would
not stop. She died in my arms as I talked gently to her so she would know she was not alone. With all her inherited loveliness, there
is not doubt in my mind that Lucy would defend me, Cheri or Evan from any perceived threat even at the risk of her own life. Our
memory of her is strong. We still celebrate that she was part of our lives. Lucy was as wonderful a dog as ever lived. And she was
loved.
