It’s been six months since I lost Lucy. I like to believe she’s patiently waiting at the gates of heaven — ready for the reunion when I meet her again one day.
I still think about this sweet and faithful companion every single day. If you’ve ever had a dog who you loved, you’ll understand.
When I put the key into my front door when I return home each day, part of me still waits to hear the sound of her tail hitting the door as she realizes I’ve returned.
When I get up in the morning, part of me still feels compelled to get her leash and take her for the first walk of the day — something she loved so much. At night, part of me wants to take her for one last walk before bed, because each walk made her so happy.
But I can’t do those things, because the World’s Happiest Dog isn’t here anymore.

Being hermit looks good as world tries to make me a misanthrope
What if we’ve completely missed the point of loving other people?
NOTEBOOK: The forest is burning, so quit arguing about single trees
In a relationship, some words more important than ‘I love you’
Creative process can be very ugly, but I need to share mine with you
Archived audio of my Alaska radio interview available for download