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Bill and I were fast asleep when I was suddenly awaken by the sound of the door abruptly creaking open and knocking into the wall. Startled, I immediately jumped up which woke Bill who asked, “What’s going on?” I thought there was an intruder, but no. It was Gus. He somehow managed to escape from his nightly confinement in the laundry room. He thought he’d get to stay with us since was there already anyway. Sorry, nope. He scared the life out of me.

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Image by Denis Collette...!!! via Flickr

My rabbits were gone. We released them in the forest preserve across the river from my parents' house. I was only consoled by the fact that I was going to get my own dog.

My mom and I drove to Wisconsin one weekend to see a litter and we picked a black female Labrador Retriever. She was the runt of the litter. I named her Magic but she immediately followed me everywhere and my mom convinced me to change her name to Shadow. It suited her; Shadow was always a step behind me.

Shadow was a great dog. She was intelligent, loyal and eager to please. She was house trained in a couple days, and knew the basic commands: sit, stay, down and heal at 9 weeks old. As she matured, she honed her skills. I would walk her in the forest preserve off leash and she would stay at my left side until I gave her the command, "free." Then she would run ahead, sniffing and exploring. She would get about 20 feet or so ahead of me and then as if on an invisible lead, she wouldn't venture any further. Instead, she'd turn around and look over her shoulder. After a couple minutes, she'd come back to me. She always returned to my side in a perfect heal until I let her go again with a joyous, "Free!"

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Image via Wikipedia

It's hard to keep track of the days now. It seems like so long ago that Lu was incapable of sitting, eating and urinating let alone walking on her own. She's certainly not 100% but she's improved greatly. It's hard for Bill and I to see the changes sometimes now that she's so much more like herself. Bill's mom was over Friday and she was surprised by how well Lulu was doing in comparison to where she was about a month ago.

We did witness a surprising improvement this is week. Lu has been able to jump up on the sofa on four or five separate occasions. The first time was a week ago today. Bill was moving towards her with the intention to pick her up to place her on the sofa. She was stubbornly trying to avoid him. See, she's grown weary of us picking her up. Much like a teenager, she's decided to defy us now that she's gained a measure of control. So every time one of us goes to her, she backs up or attempts to out maneuver us. So on this occasions she was doing just that when she found herself cornered and the only place to go was up. To all or our surprise, she made it! A day or two later, she did it again in order to get a better look at a person walking down her street. She was so excited to see Grandma, she showed off her new skill then too. While this is impressive, more often than not, she doesn't make it. Then she falls back on her bony backside with a horrible hollow thump. Poor thing. But she isn't deterred.

I returned to work this morning after two weeks of working from home. Lulu was not happy as you can see from the cold shoulder she gave me this morning.

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I lost Shadow when she was only 8 years old. She was my first dog, really my dog. Not the family dog, she was mine and mine alone.


One summer the family dog, Wicket, part Labrador part something tall and lean and named after the popular Star Wars series, found a rabbit’s nest. Before we knew something was wrong, she killed all but two babies. The little ones she did spare were so tiny, only hours old. Their little ears were closed buds and their eyes were shut. My sister, Heather, and I were not going to let those babes die. So we each took one, fed them kitten formula with eye droppers, massaged their bellies to make them defecate and basically slaved 24 hours a day to ensure those little guys survived. But, this isn’t a story about rabbits.

Regardless, those two little bunnies thrived. They grew into fighting, thrashing, scared to death, I will fight to the end, I am wild, machines. And so, my dad confronted my sympathetic mother, my mother who championed my sister and me, who paid for nourishment for the little guys, and he said, “They have to go. I don’t care if you get her a dog (meaning me) but they have to go.” And so Mom arrived at my bedroom door and told me it was time. They were wild! My consolation prize would be my own dog. And so we found her in the paper several weeks after the teary-eyed release of the kicking, scratching, ready-to-go rabbits. That little black Lab was and always will be, my Shadow.

Lulu: it means crazy