It’s been just over a year without our beloved Lucky. I’ve thought about this post for a long time, about whether to post it a year after he was put to sleep but I decided that I’d rather post on his birthday. As of today, he would’ve been seventeen years old. We had to have him put to sleep roughly a week before his sixteenth birthday, a long life for a Labrador, especially one with several long-term health problems. I wish he was still with us but he was ready to go. I’ve heard people say that before and thought I knew what it meant, but I only truly understood it the night we had to make that choice. He was just ready, even if we weren’t.
I still miss him. I still miss him greatly, as I know the rest of my family does. He was one of those dogs that even dog-ambivalent and dog-disliking people fell in love with. He was so sweet and gentle and obliging. And he just loved everybody he met; you couldn’t help but fall in love with him in return. He became a bit of a legend within our circle of family, friends, acquaintances, and further; there are connections in our lives that are entirely a result of Lucky inviting himself, and therefore us, into their lives.
There’s so much I miss about him, so much I think about when I think of him. It hurts but it also makes me smile because he always, always made me smile. He was a dog of simple pleasures. Affection, food, a good walk, and a good snooze was all he needed in life. But he certainly had his quirks (just like the rest of the family). As a puppy, he ate everything he could get a hold of, from bananas to the radio remote; he once turned the gas oven on in an attempt to reach a cake on the sideboard – that could’ve ended disastrously… He loved meeting new people but always seemed somewhat confused about what he was supposed to do when he met other dogs. He spent a lot of time sleeping on his back with his legs in the air. He got upset and left the room when people on TV got emotional, let alone people in real life.
Some days, it still doesn’t feel entirely real. I’ll still look for him when I pass ‘his’ spots and expect to see him there. I’ll still tiptoe when I get up at night to make sure I don’t disturb him. I still expect him to greet me at the front door when I get home. And then it hits me all over again. There’s a hole where he should be and I feel it every day.
But as much as I miss him, I am – in a way – grateful that he hasn’t had to cope with the pandemic. He obviously wouldn’t have understood the pandemic itself but he was so sensitive and he definitely would have sensed our anxiety – certainly my almost constant panic. It would’ve been so distressing for him; I would’ve hated for him to go through that. And given his age and all of his health issues, chances are that we might’ve had to have him put to sleep during one of the lockdowns and the only thing worse than having him put to sleep would’ve been having to do so without being allowed to be there with him. That would’ve been unbearable. So, as awful as it was, I know that it could’ve been worse. That doesn’t make me miss him any less but it does give me a sense of… something… that I don’t think I could’ve had otherwise.
So, here we are, just over a year without our lovely Lucky. It’s hard and it hurts but I wouldn’t have given up that time with Lucky for anything. And to be the ultimate cheeseball, he might’ve been called ‘Lucky,’ but we were definitely the lucky ones.