Lucy is great. She came to live with me in 1993. I was eighteen and she was a fuzzy kitty who was a victim of the St. Louis floods. Her original mom’s home was destroyed and Lucy needed a place to stay.
She never left.
Lucy — Luce, Spruce Goose, Spruce Goose Caboose, Woocers, Fuzzbutt — has been around for half my life. I’ve lived with her longer than I lived with either of my parents.
But Lucy is winding down. It has been a long week. We are not giving up but we are totally realistic. Even with her new medication for pain, she is struggling. It could be days. Could be weeks. I dunno. I wanted her to make it to May 1st (her unofficial birthday). Now I want her to make it until Wednesday when I get back from a business trip.
So instead of telling me depressing stories of euthanasia — and it seems everyone has one of those dang stories — can you tell me something fun about your first pet? What are your fondest memories? Cheer me up, yo!
And don’t make fun of my Talbots suit in this picture. I was a Human Resources chick — and I love this picture because Lucy is taking a treat out of my mouth.