The sunny spot.

No matter what time of day it is,
or what room she is sitting in,
my Lola always manages to find the sunny spot,
small as it may be,
to stretch out and bask and nap upon.

The entire house could be dark and gloomy,
or filled with energy and sound,
without fail,
Lola will have found the one, small slit of light
and curled herself up
in the sunny spot.
She comes by this trait honestly,
as a very special lady used to do the very same,
so many years ago.
My dear Lucy.
Lucy was my childhood dog,
my sweet girl,
whom we lost the very week that my husband and I got our Lola.
Lucy was 16.
She had long since tired of running away in my husband’s backyard.
She was content to lie in the sunny spot,
as the grand dame of the family,
watching over the young ones all around her.
The very last photo we have of our Lucy girl is this as she and (her puffy, white, neurotic, mental-gefilte-fish of a brother) Teddy met Lola for the first time. Lucy, never frivolous or particularly generous with her love,
nuzzled baby Lola and kissed her,
a tender seal of approval towards the new puppy in the family.
Lucy was passing the torch to a new furry, little girl.
And two days later, Lucy went to heaven.
And we’ve all missed her every day, ever since.
A few months later, as the ice melted from the ground
and as new, lush, green life began to sprout all around us,
we laid our Lucy to rest in my parents’ yard,
and planted a tree above her.
Her grave stone reads
Lucy in the sky with diamonds
and we sang to her as we placed pebbles on her name.
The tree has now grown large and strong,
as has our tiny Lola.
I think of Lucy every time my Lola does a naughty trick,
or kisses me gently on my hand,
or looks at me, with the most soulful eyes,
as her silky fur shines in the sunlight.

We love you, Luc.
We feel your warmth and love surrounding us, always;
in the sunny spot.


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