Little Lucy Lu Lu died peacefully in her own back yard yesterday, October 3rd.
On September 29th Lucy was visiting with party guests as we celebrated Kevin's 33rd birthday and Silas's 3 and a half birthday. She went on her merry way after the party, as usual. Later that night she came home injured. The x-rays showed she had a severe tail injury that had caused nerve damage; it wasn't clear if she had other internal injuries at the time, but she was stable. For 3 days we nursed her at home with medications and special treatments, hoping she would get better and could just have her tail amputated. She purred whenever we came near. Silas was incredibly gentle and spoke to her so sweetly while giving soft scratches and pats, always avoiding her "ou-ey tail". But her condition worsened and she was struggling to breathe and spent her last day on oxygen support. We made the incredibly difficult but important choice. A wonderful veterinary technician came to our house to help. It was monumentally sad.
Silas has always described our family as "Daddy, Mommy, me, Joey, Darwin and Lucy" (in order of descending size.) He struggled over the last few days to understand what is happening and how to react. We told him honestly but simply that she was injured, it hurt her, we were giving her medicine to help... but on the last day I told him that everyone had done everything to help, but the vet said Lucy was going to die. I didn't want to say "might die" - he doesn't take well to wishy washy statements, he is a negotiator. I didn't want him to feel that he needed to say just the right thing to keep Lucy alive. I just gave it as fact. His reaction evolved from uncertain giggles, to tearful argument, to pragmatic planning for how he would say goodbye.
He pet her gently when she came home on her last day. Then he watched a video and sat with our friend Nisha while Kevin and I were with Lucy at the end.
He remembered every word I said and told Kevin about how "We will miss her, but we will remember her and look at pictures and talk about her so we won't miss her as much".
After she died he kept asking "Does she have a terrible injury? Is she ok?" I would say "She doesn't feel pain anymore. She's dead" and he would repeat "But is she ok?" Finally I said "Yes" and he seemed much happier with that answer. Before we buried her he told Kevin "She's dead but she's ok now. You can pet her, she's the softest, she can't feel it but we can."
Silas helped with the funeral. In fact, it was his idea. He really wanted to help bury her "to help the flowers grow". We planted a fuchsia on the spot. She loved to be outside.
She was there at Silas's birth, even making me smile in labor.
Although she had been the "baby" of our family, she adjusted to the newest addition pretty well.
After all, they did have something in common for awhile.
She brought so much fun to our lives. We will remember her for her sassy strut, jingling bell collar, striking green eye, independent ways, and her warm delicate purr when we pet her soft soft fur.
Outside, looking in. Inside, looking out.
Christine the mermaid (with legs) and Silas the Great White Shark (my mom made the costume!)
Trick-or-treating itself was great fun. Si was extremely cute and said "Trick or treat," "Thank you," and "Happy Halloween!" at each house. After a few blocks, his bag was full and he decided he was ready to go home.
