Today was a tough one for us at Dogster HQ. Some of us woke up to text messages from our wonderful Community Manager, Lori, telling us the time had come to send her beloved Basset, Lucy, to the bridge.
Lou, known to us as “The Pretty Little Lady” at the office, was a spunky sweetheart of a senior. At 13, she was well beyond the life expectancy of her breed, and you couldn’t tell from looking at her.
She’d suffered through glaucoma, deafness, blindness, and the removal of both eyes â€” but still she still kept her head up and managed daily trips down two stories of rickety steps to Lori’s backyard, where she dug and howled in sheer delight. Lor would tell me how Lou had this “secret life” out there in the garden with nothing but dirt, grass, and three dozen smells.
Lucy had her own cat. How many dogs can say that?
“Cow,” a tame-ish feral from Golden Gate Park, became an extended part of the family after many feedings, and he grew to love Lucy and call on her on most days. Lor would laugh recounting the times he’d sneak into the house at daybreak and meow and meow until Lucy stirred, and then he would purr like a wild thing and rub up against her.
Lucy loved to be carried like a baby. She was small for a Basset Hound, and her mom would scoop her up into her arms so easily and deposit her into the arms of unsuspecting co-workers. I remember that one day at our old office, when practically everyone had a turn holding Lou this way. She was completely content being adored, her paws never touching the ground.
So today is a sad one.
Lou headed to the vet’s office for that one final appointment late in the afternoon. Her final meal was grilled steak. We are heartbroken for her mom, but grateful for all the kind words our community has written for her on Dogster and on Facebook.
As soon as the news broke, I found myself suddenly googling “sympathy flowers pets” and was greeted with scores of condolence gift ideas. But everything seemed hollow and manufactured and cheap in light of this loss and I closed my browser.
Dogsters, how do you help a good friend through heartache like this? What do you do when there really, truly, are no words?