All Good Things

"All good things gotta come to an end…” (From Jackson Browne’s excellent 1993 album, “I’m Alive”)

My wife and I recently had to say goodbye to a dear old friend -- our sweet little dog, Lucky.

Oh, he would have left this world a while back if not for the constant efforts of my wife, who gave him two shots of insulin every single day to keep his worsening diabetes from killing him.

She is – and always will be – my hero.

Lucky and we had nearly 10 delightful years together, and there was nothing about him I would have changed. He was playful – when he could still see – and so sweet, never fighting with the cat or any other dogs.

Just an open little soul looking for and giving love.

We met on a bright and lovely April day in 2013 when – ironically – we had taken Granny, our blind and decrepit cat, to the local animal shelter to be euthanized. It so happened that it was “Adopt a Dog Day” at the shelter, and we decided to have a look around.

The first animal they showed us was “Lee” – my wife’s name – and we fell instantly in love when he strolled into the meeting pen wagging his tail and giving us his sweet doggie smile. He was a transfer from the Albuquerque area, where he’d probably run away and couldn’t get reunited with his original owner.

On the way home, we renamed him “Lucky,” a name that fit both him and us.

His first three and a half years were idyllic, as we still lived at our seven-acre home in the Colorado mountains. So many hikes and walks and lovely adventures…

In 2016, my wife’s health took a turn, and we had to move back into town. It wasn’t as wonderful as those first years, but we still had a good life together, taking him for his daily walk to nearby parks and trails.

But over the last couple years he developed diabetes, which meant at first one shot per day and later two. And many potty trips outside to relieve his constant drinking – all through the day and night.

You can imagine what that did to our sleep situation…

But we stuck with him through it all. Then he suffered another blow when his trachea began collapsing, causing him to suddenly cough almost uncontrollably. Neither medicine nor surgery could help him now.

Finally, amid the Christmas madness and both of us nursing our own severe colds, we had to schedule his parting from this Earth. Those last few days were almost unbearable as we watched his time with us run out.

Does an animal have a soul, like us humans?

I think they do.

Whenever I hear the 1961 song, “Angel Baby,” by Rosie and the Originals, I will think of Lucky, because that is what he was.

And always will be.

Lucky left us with broken hearts, and that’s what almost always happens when a beloved pet dies. Will our hearts mend? Yes, probably. Will we ever be the same? No, definitely not.

But that’s just life. And time marches on.

But that little guy will never be forgotten.

Those of you who have been through this know what I mean.

Peace to you, Lucky, my dear little friend. With God's grace, may we meet again someday.