I have been mad at Lucie for a long time. I have been mad at her because I want her to straighten up and fly right. I want her to settle down and behave herself. I want her to buck up and be like she used to be. She is not going to do any of those things. I am not mad at her anymore. I wish I were.
Lucie has always been a remarkably stubborn dog. When she didn't want to eat, she wouldn't eat. When she didn't want to play, there was no tempting her, by canine or human. When she wanted to ignore you, she ignored you. She is like a cat in many ways.
Lucie is the only dog who ever bit me, although I must admit I never blamed her, as I provoked her into it. I laughed at her teeny, tiny, little warning growls at me because they were just so darn cute. Lucie ruled the roost over both Bobo and Rufus, although in recent years Rufus has realized that she has lost a step, and frequently runs right over her, or nips at her when he thinks we don't see.
Lucie sleeps most of the day now. She can't always jump high enough to hop on the couch or the chair in Ben's room. The beds have been beyond her for a while now. She lags far behind on our morning walks. She only hears the loudest of sounds. This morning she walked right into the gate and was very startled by it. She hadn't seen it, probably because her eyes have grown opaque with cataracts. We carry her in and out to go potty, and she is still really good about going outside and not in the house. She hasn't eaten breakfast for the past week. Last night she ate her dinner only with Julie's urging. If she doesn't eat her food, she can't take her meds, as I have mentioned before. Without food, of course, she grows weaker and weaker.
Lucie is old. She is failing. And even with all that, I can't bear the thought of losing her. Wish I could get mad at her again.