R.I.P. Lucky - the love of my life, the best friend I ever had.

As most of you know, one of the biggest loves of my life is an adorable, 12-year old bichon-poodle mix named Lucky, who is my baby.  On Friday, we had to make the most painful decision I can imagine, and we had to put him down.

I was sixteen when we first got Lucky, and I wasn't living with my mom at the time, although I moved back home not too long afterwards.  And even then, from the minute I saw him, my heart was his.  He was so full of life, so happy, so lovable and cute and cuddly.

I loved him instantly.

And he was so tiny!!  He could sit in the palm of my hand back then.  He slept in a bed we'd made, wrapped up in a blanket.  Sometimes he'd sleep with his arms around one of his stuffed toys. 

Back then, we lived on the first floor, and we didn't have a balcony, really.  Instead, our sliding door opened to a cement patio the same size and shape as the balconies, but with no fences. Beyond that was the grass and trees that were part of the building property.  So it was almost like a backyard.

Going outside was a game to Lucky.  As soon as you opened the door, he would run out, faster than any of us, and run around all over the place.  It would take all of us, and sometimes our friends, too, to catch him.  And even then, we'd need some sort of coordinated attack or he'd slip right past us.

Until one day, my mom threw a shoe at him.  After that, he would patiently wait until you would give him permission to go outside.

He used to love toast.  It was his treat back then, a piece of toast.  Then he got bored of that and it was a piece of cheese.  To his last day, he loved cheese.  He was the pickiest eater.  He loved perogies, but only if they has some sour cream.  And he loved salad, but only if it had three-cheese ranch dressing.  He loooooved frozen green grapes.  Not unfrozen, only frozen ones.  In the summer, when we got ice cream, we'd get him one too.  He liked vanilla, and we'd hold it so he could eat it right from the cone.

He loved to be near people, and his favourite spot to sit was right behind where you were standing. We had to learn for a while to look behind us before we stepped back.

He calmed down as he grew older.  He injured his back leg, so running and jumping became harder for him. We didn't have any other dogs, so he was never super comfortable with them.  He wasn't the kind to wander off and explore too far on his own, and even if we took him camping or wherever, he would stick near you.

He used to come to you when you were sad and lean against you until you hugged him.  He'd kiss your face and do his best to cheer you up.  He greet you at the door, happy, excited that you were home.  He'd go over and scratch at the couch, or at your door, or on your bed, until you let him up so he could sit with you wherever you were.  He loved car rides, and he loved to feel the air against his face as he stuck his head out the window, even in the middle of winter.  He loved his toys, and would sleep with them at night.  He knew what you meant when you said 'shower' or 'bath' and would run and hide.

Lately, he had been very sick.  We found out a few months ago he was diabetic, and it took a while to get his sugar to where we believed it was under control.  He lost about 8 or 9 lbs since Christmas (which is an incredible amount for an overweight 23-lbs doggie), and he was less lively than usual.  About three weeks ago, though, he started going blind. It started off normally, where he had a milky colour to his eyes and he slowly lost sight.  Then about two weeks ago they started turning slightly red (almost like a reflection, or red-eye in pics), and within the week they were red and there was a discharge.  A few days later, they were super swollen and slightly deformed.  By Wednesday of this week, they were swollen to the point it seemed like they would burst any minute.  There was also a small indentation in the middle of them, which is where all the discharge was coming out.  Since we don't have the $3000+ to fix everything, we couldn't help him.  We couldn't even use steroids to bring down the swelling, as they would possibly lead to liver failure for his already damaged liver.

Sadly, the choice was made, after the vet's recommendation, to put him down.


I don't think, ever my life, have I felt such heartbreak.  I feel like we failed him.  Like we could have fixed it but didn't, even though I know realistically we did what was within our means to do.

I feel like I lost a family member.  Like a little hole in my heart has been made and will never be filled.  I can't imagine another pet, or loving another one as much as I loved my baby.

He was my constant companion, spending his days laying next to me as I sent out emails or updated blogs, or read, or did whatever.  He would curl up like a baby in my arms, and cuddle next to when to sleep.

It hurts to know he's not here.  I can't hug him.  And I can't pet him.  I don't get to take him out, and see him run around in the sun.  I don't get to see him do his little somersault onto his back so he can wiggle around on the ground. I don't get to wake up to his scratching my door, and I'll never again get to sleepily let him in and cuddle with him on my bed. 

I hope that wherever he is, he is as happy, and as loved, as he was here.  I hope that maybe he's somewhere with my grandma, sitting on the couch next to her, watching TV and waiting for us to come home.

Thank you for all the years, and the memories, and the love.  I will never, ever, ever forget you, and I will love you until the day I die.  And even then, I'll hope you meet me wherever I'm going.

I love you.