I took a lot of criticism for glamorizing the adoption of my senior dog, Lucy. Yes, it was heartbreaking, but it was the best heartbreak I’ve ever endured. It’s the kind of hurt that I am proud to bare. Despite the swelling in my chest and stinging pain of her memory, she never fails to bring a smile to my eyes. I claim the distinction between when my family brought home a puppy and when I opened my door to a senior dog. Both have brought incredible joy, but I’ve never gained the wisdom of pain like I have with Lucy.

I was in high school and I came across her story. After a divorce, this broken couple opened their door and abandoned the thirteen year old. It’s unfathomable to know this dog had love and warmth belonging to a home to one day grow emaciated and remain neglected. The pain of her arthritis was too great to scavenge until animal control rescued her off the streets. She was brought to a vet where they identified her owners. It was like she was worth nothing. The years spent where she gave them nothing but unconditional love and loyalty was expendable. The divorced couple said put her down, like they put down their marriage and then hung up the phone.

I can’t imagine the feeling of knowing you are not wanted. The confusion of your life being completely flipped upside down. So, the first time I saw her, I knew that I could give her more in the last years of her life than she’s ever been given. I didn’t know that what I received from her was the greatest gift life had granted me.

Unfortunately, she continued suffering after I brought her into my home. It was draining for the both of us to do everything we could to make her comfortable and that she would never get better. It was okay though. I was okay with death because it was always about quality, not quantity. I had to remember that because I can be selfish. With Lucy I was never selfish.

If you asked anyone who saw us, they would tell you Lucy was my shadow. She was drawn to me like the moon draws towards the earth. She relied on me for reassurance and comfort. I bet she was afraid that if she left my side, I’d be gone. I made a promise to her though that she was mine and I was hers. I excused time as a factor in our relationship. My moments with her were too precious to be spoiled by the inevitable. So I focused on the tiresome responsibility of her without complaining. I hand fed her to assure she eats. I had to lift her gently and walk her down the porch steps every time she needed to go outside. I had to dress the cancer sore on her paw. I scraped up my own money to pay for the vet bills and sacrificed time with friends and vacations because I made a promise to her.

Lucy’s spirit was young, but her crippled body couldn’t keep up. She pretended for me that she wasn’t in pain and I pretended for her that I was ready to let her go. It wasn’t until the day that I skipped school, curled up next to her that I stopped lying to myself. I actually was content with losing her. It was easier once I realized the pain her previous life cost her and the physical pain she hid from me was something no dog should have to go through. No animal should experience such pain. So I was at peace as I felt her heart beat one last time that even though I only had 18 months with her, what I gained from our time will last a life time. It’s not about the amount of time you have, but what you do with it.

I’d go back and live through all that grief all over again. It didn’t matter to me that I didn’t see her grow up, or that I couldn’t raise her myself. What really mattered is that she had a story that I could rewrite. Rescuing a senior dog continues to be the most rewarding rescue I’ve had.