It’s hard for me to write. My emotions are all over the place. My mind is scattered. I’m sad. Angry. Heartbroken. Empty. We’ve all heard the saying, “Bad things happen to good people.” But sometimes bad things happen to good pups.” Innocent beings with big hearts. It happened to mine. My little Lucy. And now we’re both suffering. Lucy was mauled, thrashed, and beaten in a senseless act of terror. Torture. Innocently and mindlessly walking from the mailbox. Sniffing the grass. Playful. And then. In a nanosecond, her life changed. My life changed. Grabbed by the throat. Tossed to her back. Taken into the jaws of this “creature,” Lucy was helpless. I was paralyzed. I screamed. Yelled. Cried.“Stop. Help.” I threw my belongings down. Mail, phone strewed across the driveway. The sidewalk. But the torture continued. I dropped Lucy’s leash hoping that would free her. She broke free but ran in the wrong direction and was tackled to the ground. The beast grabbed her by the neck, thrashed her again, and tossed her viciously to the ground. She jawed her again, looking like Lucy was going to be her next meal. 
I am not sure how it happened. I am not even sure when it happened. I just know it did. And I’m so grateful. Somehow Lucy escaped the clenched jaws. She wriggled her way free and ran as fast as her mini legs could carry her. My legs were frozen. But I flew into my garage where I found Lucy cowering in a corner. Shaking. Whimpering. In pain. Fear. I lifted her into my arms. Sobbing uncontrollably. I hugged her tightly. Rocked her. Told her it would be okay. But it wouldn’t. How did I know?
I held her for hours. Finally had to put her down. She normally would go to her bed. Her blanket. But suddenly she was gone. I couldn’t find her. She was burrowed under my bed. Deep. She was hiding. And she wouldn’t come to me. It broke my heart. This was my baby who came running at the sound of her name. Nothing. She cowered. She trembled. I pretended I was leaving. The door beeped. And I saw her peek her little nose out. I was able to get her before she burrowed back again. I carefully set her on her blanket. Right in my closet. She loved that spot. Warm. Cozy. Comforting. I was right there with her. And then suddenly she was gone again. There was no way. She could not have passed me without my noticing. I searched under the bed. I searched other rooms. I could not find her. I pushed my clothes. Back and forth. Forward and back. Where are you? And there she was. Snuggled deep into the wall. This was breaking my heart. Where did my bouncy, peppy girl go? What did this beast do to her?
Since there weren’t any piercings or punctures I thought we were home free. I couldn’t have been more wrong. I didn’t see the massive contusion on her belly, hidden by her puppy hair. But the vet saw it right away. X-rays. No broken bones. Okay. We’re doing good. We are grateful. This could have been much worse. But the worst was yet to come.
Lucy stopped eating. Barely drank. Four days. I spoke to the vet. Time to intervene. Let’s see the doc. Again. The hematoma was swollen. Not good. Suspicious. A little temp. Scary. Uh-oh. So off we went. New place. New docs. Sonogram. And then the bad news poured in. The REAL news. The REAL facts. Massive internal injuries. Lack of puncture wounds was meaningless. That beast had destroyed her insides! Those jaws clamped down with such ferocity, she was looking to kill. Hernia, hematoma, spleen, and, worst of all, pancreas. These were the words thrown at me. Surgery. Critical. Life-threatening. May not make it. You may have to make a decision none of us want to make. Hope for the best. NO! This could not be. How was I going to do this?
Friday was an eternity. She made it out of surgery, but the doctor’s last words were “hope for the best.” I wasn’t relieved. I wasn’t assured. I was sick. To my stomach. Physically sick. Sleep? Forget it. Food? Wouldn’t digest. I keep reliving the moment over and over. A bad dream. A nightmare. I just want to wake up. With Lucy next me.
Ashley, Tyler, Bella and I went to visit her yesterday. A plastic cone around her head. A feeding tube bulging out of her neck. IV tube in her tiny leg. Bandages. Wraps. But she looked at us. Puppy eyes. Lucy eyes. She stuck out her little tongue. She gave a few licks. And then she whimpered. I held her close. I told her I loved her. I told her I need her to come home. She looked at me. I think she knows. She’s a fighter. I’m praying. Friends and family are praying. And I am so grateful for all the love and support. I wouldn’t be standing on my feet without it. So thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Lucy is my lifeline. She was my savior after Gregger died. She has helped me through the worst of times. I only hope that I can be her lifeline. I will bring her through the worst of this time. And we will travel through the rest of our lives together.
