After another week of politics, it’s time again to write about Lucy. How would I maintain any level of equilibrium without Lucy? I wish you all had a Lucy to care for, make you laugh, walk with, spend money on, share your secrets, and love so much that Dog TV is a must when you leave her home alone.

Today, she patiently waits for me to write this article so we can play. She is sitting on a pillow, looking out the window, and probably wishing to be outside playing in the snow. She turns her head and looks at me with those big black eyes. Seeing I’m still pecking away, she turns back to the window, settles in a circle, and huffs.

Lucy is now two and one-half years old, and I honestly can’t imagine life without her. The sound of her toenails clicking on the hardwood floors, the weight of her little ten-pound body pressed up against me most of the night, and the way she wiggles her body if she thinks there is any chance I have food in my hand—her number one motivator.

I’m curious to know what runs around in her little head. She is so bright and understands me most of the time. Around seven in the evening, Lucy wants peanut butter. She barks, wags her tail, and looks up at me with a commanding yearning. A little fur ball jiggles at my feet while I spread smooth Jiffy on her lick pad. After about six minutes, the pad is clean, and she is happy. She never “asks” for anymore.

Lucy doesn’t snuggle like I want—maybe she is independent and doesn’t want me to think I’m too important. If I pay her no attention, she will jump onto the recliner beside me, curl up, and sleep. Being petted is not her thing. If I touch her, she will likely jump off the chair.

The best part about Lucy and me is that we love each other in our weird ways. We can have arguments like old married people, and even though she doesn’t always win, she still likes me, and vice versa. We share the power and reap the benefits of true love—Like, Observe, Value, and Entertain.

Human-to-human relationships could learn a lot from human-to-dog relationships. One of the most essential things is eye contact—Lucy always looks at me squarely. The other is unconditional acceptance. I can leave her alone for however long, and she is always waiting at the kitchen door, unable to stand still.

We can bark at each other, but we’ll still share the recliner and do our best to make the other feel secure and safe.

Until the next time: Live while you live.

Jennifer Goble, Ph.D., LPC, is the author of “My Clients…My Teachers,” and the blogger and writer of Rural Women Stories: www.ruralwomenstories.com.

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