Goodbye Goldie

Will's 2 yr old Beta fish, Goldie, passed away last night. 

I found this sign on his tank this morning. 

(It says, "Goldie Died from oldness and sickness")

We were told through tears last night that we were absolutely not allowed to "flush him down the toilet."

The burial is scheduled for 7:00 PM this evening. 

Goodbye, dear Goldie.  You were a very nice Beta fish and Will loved you very much.

Goodbye, Sweet Lucy

Lucy puppy, October 1995

Today we said goodbye to our sweet dog, Lucy. A mere 6 weeks from her 15th birthday (105 to you and me!), we had to make the hardest yet most humane decision and bring an end to her pain.

Lucy was the runt of a motherless litter found on the side of the road in Montgomery County, Indiana. When Scott and I went to the county shelter to adopt our first "baby," I took one look at that little puppy, with that odd combination of Corgi and German Shepard and those silly Yoda-like ears and said "Mine!"

Scott named her Lucy for the express purpose that, if and when she had an accident in the house, he could use his Ricky Ricardo accent and say, "Luuucy, you got some 'splainin to do!"

We knew right away that Lucy was smart. I mean really smart. We had a Christmas bell on our front door when we were house training her and if she really needed to go out, she would jump up and hit the bell with her nose to get our attention. We did NOT teach her that, she just figured it out!

Another example: I (unwittingly) taught her to pee at the snap of my fingers. Standing out in the very, very cold Indiana winter, I would encourage Lucy to take care of business as quickly as possible, so I would take her out, snap my fingers and say, " Lucy, pee!" After a few days, all I had to do was snap. But that wasn't the really smart part. The really smart part was that if she knew that we were going to take her for a car ride and I snapped for her to pee, she would do her "fake squat." I am not kidding. She would pretend to pee so she could get in the car faster. Then we would call her on it and she would relent and actually go. She was a riot.

And she was sweet. Even though she was far from a lap dog, she was very friendly, loved to have her ears and belly scratched and was generally a very sweet-natured dog. More than one friend has told us that they were not really dog people but they really loved our Lucy.

Lucy spent her first 7 years as an "only child" and reveled in it. She loved to ride in the car, romp in the mountains on weekend trips to our cabin and play with her best friend, my Mom's golden retriever, Jenny.

She was fast and could turn on a dime. She would wait in our front yard for the neighborhood kids to come home from school and play "catch me if you can" with them. No one ever caught her and the kids could not wait to see her every day.

But alas, the day came when her peaceful world was rocked by the cries and coos of her red-headed human little sister. Although she definitely received a whole lot less attention, she fell in love with Eliza Grace and, as you can see, became the doting big sister:
And just about the time Lucy got used to one little person running around, along came another one, even louder and sillier than the one before. She tolerated their noise, enjoyed all of the crumbs that hit the floor, and even allowed quite a few kisses on the lips: We could not have asked for a better pet and we have been so blessed to have her as part of our family for such a long and healthy time.

We love you, Lucy, and we know that you are romping and playing with your best friend Jenny in that big, grassy field in the sky!

Working it out....

Last week I learned that a childhood friend had been killed in a murder-suicide. Although I had not spoken to Amy in nearly 10 years, the shock and subsequent pain from the situation was intense. This selfish and evil act robbed 2 parents of their child, 3 children of their mother, a husband of his wife, a brother of his sister and an untold amount of friends of a beautiful, dear friend.

Because of my beliefs, my mind has been working very hard to focus on God's greater plan in all of this. I know, to the core of my being, that while God did not cause this to happen, he will find a way to use it to pour out blessings some how, some time, some place. But right now my heart disdains that image. How pathetic and empty it sounds to my own ears. I cannot even begin to imagine the pain of not being able to say that last "I love you." To have a part of one's life ripped away so senselessly. It is so sad...and to say that is so inadequate.

As a parent, I rarely allow myself to go to that very dark place where my mind wanders about horrible things that could happen to my children. But when I do, I have to physically shake my head and shudder to force the thoughts from my head. It is overwhelming.

I know our time on earth is fleeting. So I am working my way out of the sadness. I know the road will be much longer and much more painful for Amy's family and close friends. I pray that God's plan for the blessings from Amy's death begin to show up now.

Today. I will do my part by working hard to ensure my friends and family know how much I love them, cherish them and want so much to live with them forever in paradise.

The knowledge that Jesus has taken Amy's heart and soul in his loving arms helps. But I still cannot stop wondering why....