Nathalie's Notes

Lessons from Lucy Baby

As I was on deadline for another column I couldn’t believe I haven’t told you guys yet about my Lucy Baby.

It doesn’t feel like a month ago that she died. My sweet, crazy pup. I still cringe pulling into the driveway late at night, lest she bark and wake the boys. But, she doesn’t.

Finding her stocking in the Christmas trunk is just what I was talking about in my last column, dedicated to her: Grief laced with gratitude.

I miss her. I hate that she’s gone. But, since it’s been a month … I’m actually writing this without crying. The acute, shocked fog of my grief has faded.

Reading my blog archives remembering her, how intensely I loved her … my first baby … that brings tears to my eyes and a sharp twist in my heart. But that will probably always be true.

Lucy was special for a lot of reasons, but one that might not make sense to a lot of people is that she taught me that it is possible to love someone/something as if it were your own … for years I struggled with the possibility that my parents couldn’t really even though they said they loved me, and seemed to mean it, but secretly I wondered, really? Wouldn’t you love me more if I was biologically yours?

This is a ridiculously simplified version of reality, but the condensed version of this story is that in loving Lucy, in taking care of her as a puppy, worrying about her ahead of myself … I learned that yes, without a doubt, my parents could love me as much as anyone else’s even if we didn’t have our blood types in common.

I learned a lot from my Lucy Baby, but that’s one of the lifetime lessons she gave me.

Guys, I know there’ve been some bummer posts on here but I have to tell you … there is still joy in my heart and gratitude … so know that despite the hard stuff, I still see and seek the good and we are doing  alright. This is just … real life.

Now, I know there are some elf haters out there … but since Finn the Elf made his debut, fun posts to follow!

Also … super excited to share THIS weekend I’m turning in the final documents for my journaling class The Art of Self Preservation I get to teach through Big Picture Classes. {Hello, dream come true!}

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Crazy Lucy

Riley and Zoe, picked this little shirt out for Lucy Baby last Christmas. As I fought with her to put it on, I overheard Matt mutter to his brother-in-law, "Well, Nathalie and I used to have a dog. Now Nathalie has a dog."

Best Purchase Ever

A year ago today we headed into town to buy a few little things for our flooring project. And ended up coming home with a little surprise that would change our lives: Little Lucy Baby.

I waited in the truck while Matt ran into the store. I was tired. Or, rather, I thought I was tired. Little did I know we were about to launch one in a series of sleep deprivation exercises. I watched Matt pause at the entrance, bend down, come back up grinning and walk back toward me. Uh-oh. Puppies. I've been avoiding this since 1999. Because I am not a dog person. At all.

Honey. He says it like it's a full sentence. You have to come see this.

No, thanks.

Babe, seriously. They are so cute!

You know I can't just look. So I'm not going to torture myself.

Please just come look.

Fine!

And then I broke all the rules mentioned in the Labradors for Dummies book that I bought after the fact. There was no research. There was no studying all of the dogs until I picked the "best" one. No. Just this one little chocolate pup picked me. Something compelled me to pick her up and she snuggled right into me. And licked my face! And I didn't hate it. In fact, I felt my heart give. I held her until she got really squirmy. I put her down and she took a few steps away to go potty in private. The other dogs were going right there in the middle of everything. So maybe the "best" dog picked me.

Danger. Danger. Danger. A woman from the parking lot was approaching us rather aggressively. She started to lean toward the little chocolate dog so I took a possessive posture and said, "Isn't she adorable?"
"Oh, is she yours?"
"Yes." Oh God. Yes?!

Matt came out of the store swinging his plastic bag containing $6.98 worth of stuff.

"Yeah. We're going to need $200 and some dog food."

A year later, she's 70 pounds of love but still cuddles with us and has been my favorite purchase ever. I always figured that one day Matt would win the dog debate and I would learn to tolerate his dog. I surprised myself, and everyone who knows me, by how much I love her. She is totally a part of our family. Proof? I have a picture I could use for Christmas cards, but she isn't in it so I have to wait till my amazing photographer sister-in-law can take one of all four of us this weekend.  

Our mischievous sprite

Well Lucy Baby seems to be feeling better. Or at least she's back to her mischievous sprite self. This morning she got into the dirty laundry and managed to distribute socks, t-shirts and underwear throughout the downstairs. When I came back up after picking up after her, I saw that she'd taken one of Baby Chi Chi's teething rings and shredded it all over the upstairs so it looks like someone puked in plastic technicolor. Awesome.

This just in: washing dishes is dangerous. As I was coming up from getting the detergent out from under the sink I whacked my brow bone on the cast iron pan sitting on the edge of the counter. Sam's first word will most likely be a swear word. Sorry, dad.

I have my first postpartum doctor's appointment tomorrow. I wonder if the chart notes will mention my new black eye under the section about how we are coping with the new changes.

Absolutely not allowed

Lucy Baby is absolutley NOT allowed on the couch. Obviously we are equally guilty of giving in to our gimpy girl.

Is bubble wrap cool yet?

I am as surprised as the next person to realize the depth of my love for a dog of all things. I remember the exact moment when I realized I was absolutely nuts over her. We were in Walla Walla visiting Matt's parents for the holidays. Matt was feeding his mom's horses with 8-week-old Lucy underfoot. She got a little brave and started running alongside one of the horses. I watched in horror from the balcony as one of these humongous beasts struck at her. All I could do was scream from a distance as I sprinted toward her. She tumbled out of the way and managed to avoid being stampeded to death.

I called YaYa that night with this to say: "I do not know how you send those boys of yours out into the world wearing just plain cotton. I'm not having kids until they make bubble wrap cool to wear."

Houndini revisted

Couple more thoughts to add to the Proud Lucy post - everyone warned us about how much our little lab would chew things up. We marveled at how little she actually did. Oh, she was certainly a paper shredder and chewed up a few books but we learned quickly to keep them off the floor and she eventually stopped. But shoes, furniture, etc. didn't seem to interest her. Sly little thing. We were so impressed we even bragged about it a little bit. "Oh, no Lucy doesn't chew things up. We're just lucky she's such a good girl." Yeah. So we start getting ready to sell the house and start finding all kinds of little surprises. Like the dry wall she annihilated in the laundry room. It was behind the door which we very rarely close. But when we first got her, that's where her kennel was. And, apparently, the wall that served as her teething toy. A few days later Paul and Rosie came by to pick up the pressure washer we'd borrowed ages ago. Sure, we'll have that ready for ya. Matt went outside and started wrapping up the cord only to find that it, too, was completely chewed up. Um. How about a replacement check instead?

And then, back to the Houndini situation- while in Walla Walla, we left her with her doggy cousin Daisy while we went to the radio. Daisy's got some digs to envy. Big ol' Kennel with lots of room to run. We get back to their house around 11 and there's our little Lucy. In the front yard panting her head off. Daisy, however, is still in her kennel. What in the hell? Lucy doesn't look the slightest bit worried, in fact she seems quite pleased with herself. She is also soaking wet. Not just maybe she ran through a sprinkler wet. No, she is took a dip in someone's pool wet. And I swear she's grinning at us like "Look guys! I found water!" Matt's cousin teased me that it'll be worse when I go to pick up my kid and he isn't where I dropped him off. Which is true. But my kid damn well better be able to explain a) why he's dripping wet, b) how he snuck out and c) where he really was. With Lucy, I was thankful she found her way back in new territory and I lost some sleep worrying that the next day we'd get a call that she destroyed someone's pool in an effort to get to her precious water.

Proud Lucy

I'm working on an essay about the ways Lucy is preparing us to be parents. The list keeps growing making it a super long post so I'll start posting one at a time.

Lucy Baby has taught me to be careful about bragging her up. I mean it is amazing how smart she is but just when I get too braggy about her, I'm stunned speechless by something else she's done.

I think I mentioned her escape artist phase? I came home from work one day shocked to see her sitting on the front porch panting. I think she saw me coming and ran home to beat me. Matt fixed what we thought was the problem. A week later, I was putting my key in the door and she rounded the corner of the yard and looked at me like "Hey! What's up?" Um. Why are you out of the back yard?! We eventually got this situation under control. We thought. 

I was at the neighbor's house paying my last respects to her husband who was dying of cancer. A group of us sat around making the kind of awkward conversation you make while pretending not to hear the horrible sounds of death approaching in the next room. Someone asked me how little Lucy was doing. I proudly said that she's finally stopped getting out out of the yard. There was an uncomfortable silence.

"Well ..." My neighbor started, "actually, come take a look." I followed her out to the porch, there on her freshly seeded lawn were a hundred little Lucy-sized paw prints. "Also, she's been getting into my pond. And I'm concerned that if she ruins it, it'll be expensive to fix."

"I'm so sorry!" Because what else do you say?

"And our neighbor has been complaining of a raccoon getting into her pond and leaving big muddy foot prints."

A little brown "raccoon" named Lucy.

Ego boost

I gave in to Lucy's pleading green eyes and took her on a little walk tonight even though I'm still recovering from our recent Incident. The one that ended up with me getting x-rays on my wrist and a "nothing we can do about that" nod toward whatever I pulled underneath this mass of baby. So we're walking along, trying out her new leash, the kind that goes over her nose so she can't pull. She does not love her new leash. But I do. Until these two little boys charge at her. "Oh, a puppy!" And they get all up in her face before I can warn them. She's nervous and barky with them. We eventually get things worked out and they play nicely for a bit before one of the little boys looks up at me and asks:

Are you pregnant?

Yes, I am.

That was my first guess. My second one was that you've been eating a lot. And I mean, like, a lot.

The Kindness of Strangers

Sure, mean people suck. But where's the bumper sticker celebrating the Kindness of Strangers? There are so many awesome people that don't suck and I just want to give a little shout out to Awesome People Everywhere. To everyone who has ever stopped what they were doing to ease someone else's day, even just a little bit.

Lest you think this is a random, gushy post, let me tell you a little story. Lucy and I had a little ... um ... adventure this afternoon. I promised her we'd go to the river today. Didn't occur to me that everyone else in town might be there too. But once we got to the park, I was determined not to bail out. She gets so excited at "do you want to go to the river?" she comes barreling into the house with a stick in her mouth. She's packed. And then eagerly, she watches you pack her gear: poop bags, treats, towel, leash. Off to the river. Just as we pulled up, so did another couple with a lab, Jack. Jack was a little less eager than Lucy. Or, his owner was a lot stronger than me. Either way, they made their way down the hill in perfect form while Lucy and I lurched along, me trying not to loose my cool as well as keep my balance to avoid the Humpty Dumpty effect. It was a disaster. I can't think of the last time I got this dirty. We take Luce off her leash at the top of the hill so she is in the habit of running full speed into the river. This may not have been the best thing to teach her. She pulled free of my grip and pounced into the water as Jack's owner threw him a stick. Kids, dogs, people to play with everywhere. Lucy was beside herself with glee as she bounced along the water, leash trailing behind her. I started rolling up my overalls knowing I'd have to go in for her. Then, before I could stop it, she was bounding back toward me with a new doggie friend in tow. The only thing standing between me and these wildly delighted dogs was a blonde boy who learned how to stand maybe yesterday. His mom freaked out as she swooped him up and got him out of harm's way. Harm, stopped short of barreling him and stood nearby panting wondering why he couldn't play. So mom turned her fury on me and I stared at her stunned. Don't get me wrong, she was right to be worried, I was too, but to act like my dog is rabid and that I'm some kind of criminal for bringing her to the river was a little over the top.

I was ready to go. Lucy, however, was not. Under the watchful eye of the Furious Mother I kept wading in after her trying to get her leash until finally a woman approached me and said, "Can I do anything to help you?"
"No, thanks. I'm fine."
"Are you sure? Because you look very uh ... pregnant." And you know how when you're barely keeping it together and someone is super nice to you, it makes you loose it? So everyone is watching us and I suddenly can't speak because I am crying! I was already having a bad day so this just topped it off.

"Can I help you get your dog somewhere else? Don't worry about her." She glared at the Furious Mother still watching me.

"Yeah, back up to my truck would be great."

"You don't really want to go home do you? That's silly. You have a right to enjoy it down here AS MUCH AS ANYONE ELSE." Another pointed look at Furious Mother.

She got her sons to help coax Lucy over to another part of the river where we played for nearly an hour. Lucy calmed right down and stayed in her area, fetching sticks, doing her alligator impersonations and just splashing around. When it was time for us to go, her third-grade son offered to help me get Lucy back on her leash and up the hill. That turned into another ordeal but this time, it wasn't so bad because instead of judging my incompetence, the people left at the park laughed about how "ours does the same thing."

I really appreciated this lady's kindness as well as the thoughtfulness of her sons. I hope to raise Sam to be as thoughtful and considerate as these boys were.