Yesterday I encountered proof positive that certain people can be Grade A, d-bags. Let me walk you through what happened - While strolling with my beautiful dog Lucille (take as long as you'd like to admire the photo above) a dowdy woman in a stained parka lurched up to me. She thrust a business card at me while saying, "It looks like you might be needing my services soon. And we've got reasonable rates, you can ask around." The card read, Peaceful Endings Pet Euthanasia-PEPE. I informed her that a charm school may have been a better investment, nonetheless, my dog, if she'd care to look, was still very much alive. In fact, she was having a fine time at the park.
Listen, it's pretty clear, my dog is old. She's 17 and she has cataracts and arthritis and her hearing is beginning to fade away. And soon, I know, she will begin to fade away too. I find the whole thing unbearable. But I don't need to be nudged in the direction of killing my dog on a sunny Sunday afternoon. That's just bad business.
And I also know that everyone thinks their dog is the best dog in the world, and while I appreciate that, it's been a secret kept by no one that Lucille is the all time champion of every dog in the entire universe.
We've been together for 16 years now, since I found her wandering the mean streets of Hollywood, looking for a friend. I suppose I was doing the exact same thing.
Listen, it's pretty clear, my dog is old. She's 17 and she has cataracts and arthritis and her hearing is beginning to fade away. And soon, I know, she will begin to fade away too. I find the whole thing unbearable. But I don't need to be nudged in the direction of killing my dog on a sunny Sunday afternoon. That's just bad business.
And I also know that everyone thinks their dog is the best dog in the world, and while I appreciate that, it's been a secret kept by no one that Lucille is the all time champion of every dog in the entire universe.
We've been together for 16 years now, since I found her wandering the mean streets of Hollywood, looking for a friend. I suppose I was doing the exact same thing.
For a long while Lucille was the first face I'd see in the morning and the last sweet face I'd see before closing my eyes at night. Her little feet clicking across every single floor we've ever lived on. She's never been mad at me and she just so happens to think, despite all facts to the contrary, that I'm the winningest, the funniest and the absolute smartest chick around. The feeling, I'll have you know, is very mutual.
In the time we've been together, we've traveled around, had some ups and a few downs, met some great folks, lost a few friends and stood close by each other through it all.
How could she know, the d-bag with the dirty parka, that Lucille means the world to me and more? How could she know that her attempt at getting some coin left my heart a little less buoyant?
How could she know, the d-bag with the dirty parka, that Lucille means the world to me and more? How could she know that her attempt at getting some coin left my heart a little less buoyant?
I guess it's the idea of missing Lucille that is such an awful thing. Preparing myself for what's surely right around the corner. For the day I no longer hear her little feet clicking across my floor. But until that dark day, I'm going to enjoy every second I have left with her, my sweet Lucille, the all time champion of every dog in the entire universe.
