Oh, Gooty.

As I write this, the world’s coolest dog, my very own Gooter delight, is in a chilly kennel at the vet’s office without her family, wondering why the hell we abandoned her. I bet she’s feeling bad for puking in the house too many times in the past few days and she thought we’d give her away to avoid having to clean up vomit. That’s what Darren and I are trying to do with Lenny, after all. However, this wouldn’t be the first time our little Contented Critter was abandoned.

But no. We love Lucy. Everyone loves her. And now she’s sick. Not only is she sick, I’m pretty sure she’s going to die and it is KILLING me that I can’t be home with her.

Just a couple of weeks ago my cousin’s dog got Blasto and went blind and Angie mentioned how hard it’s going to be when Lucy dies. I told her to just shut up, stop thinking about it, Lucy’s super happy and active and healthy and she isn’t going to die for years and years. Then Lucy got sick, stopped going for walks, started puking and stopped eating. Today my dad brought her to the vet for the fourth time in a week and this time they kept her. They are fighting whatever she has aggressively because another dog had the same symptoms last week and died. They have no idea what’s causing it.

I’ve spent the day crying and trying to hide my tears from co-workers, which isn’t easy as my work area is centrally located and passed by, well, everyone. All I can do is hope my munchkin pulls though, but I think it’s going to take a miracle.

I can't believe what a big part of my and my family's life Lucy has become. We talk about the first few days we had her and it feels like only months ago. I can’t imagine life without her. Watching our last dog, Sam, die is still the hardest thing I’ve ever gone through. I think about it now, seven years later, and cry instantly. We got Lucy a week after Sam died and we pretty much hated her because she wasn’t what we were used to. She buried bones under magazines and bit feet and chewed on socks and peed on the carpet and shit on the driveway and didn’t come when we called her and didn’t know how to sit up or roll over and didn’t like to have her ears ironed. What kind of dog doesn't like to have her ears ironed?! We learned to love her and her quirkiness, though her behavior has also improved considerably. She has turned into the sweetest dog, falling all over us for a scratch behind the ear. Now it might be time to say goodbye and it makes me sick to think I might not be there to bid my final farewell. My poor father might lose his favorite child.

Forgive me if you don’t hear from me for a while.