I’m happy and sad at the same time. I invited Lucy to come live with us, but she refused.
She couldn’t leave her house, her home. I guess I can’t blame her for that. I understand how she could feel that way. After all, it is the only home she has ever known, and goodness knows, home and place can exert elemental pulls on a person — or on a dog.
She was just a puppy when she came to the house across the road. The family who adopted her included three boys who were made for the country and the outdoors. They built tree houses and made forts.
They camped out when the weather was good and even when it wasn’t so great. As I would pull in the driveway or work in the garden, I would see them deep in the trees hammering or digging away, lost in their latest project. And Lucy was right there with them. Kids and dogs, can there be a more pure union?