Nine years ago, a dog transformed my life. At just 20, and still reeling from my father’s passing, I stumbled into a boutique where you can bottle your own wine. It was there that I met a cocker spaniel puppy. The store owner happened to be a breeder, and before I knew it, a red and white spaniel was cradled in my arms, her adorable freckled nose captivating me. I named her Lucy, inspired by the spirited character from a childhood favorite.
Suddenly, I had a reason to rise each morning rather than snooze until noon. I had a furry companion who depended on me for everything. Lucy gave me a routine, a purpose, and helped me navigate my grief.
As life often does, it changed. When Lucy was two, I fell in love, and a new “Dad” entered her life. They gradually bonded, and our little family flourished. However, when Lucy turned four, her health began to falter. Cocker spaniels are notoriously prone to various medical issues, and Lucy was no exception—she battled skin irritations, cysts, ear infections, and more. Each vet visit felt like a small price to pay for our beloved pet.
But Lucy was not without her challenges. She had episodes of aggressive behavior. Despite our veterinarian’s warnings about cocker rage—an unsettling tendency for cocker spaniels to act out—we held onto hope and made excuses, blinded by our affection.
At six, I became pregnant, which brought a whirlwind of concerns. Would our child have allergies? Would Lucy’s barking disturb the baby? Most troubling was the fear that Lucy might feel jealousy and act out.
During my maternity leave, Lucy and I shared a lovely bond. She would curl up beside me, feeling the baby kick through my belly. When my daughter Emma arrived, Lucy adapted well, lounging next to us during feedings and accompanying us on walks with the stroller.
As Emma began to crawl, however, Lucy started to withdraw. She flinched from her playful antics—hair pulling, eye poking, and excited squeals. But Emma was undeterred, adoring all dogs, with “puppy” being her third word and Lucy her tenth. I started to believe everything would work out.
Then, just three days ago, everything changed. While lounging on the couch with her dad and Emma, Lucy suddenly lunged. She snapped at Emma multiple times, and on the third attempt, she bit her arm and neck, leaving a mark. Her dad had to intervene forcefully to make Lucy release her grip. It was a moment that shattered our family unit in an instant, all the wishful thinking and excuses collapsing around me. I was left to grapple with the guilt: What could I have done differently? It could have been much worse.
Emma is recovering, but the small scab on her neck is a constant reminder of that day. Occasionally, she stops and recalls, “Lucy bit me,” bringing tears to her eyes. The emotional scars run deeper than the physical ones. Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to harbor a fear of dogs; she even played joyfully with my sister’s dog during Easter dinner. I cling to the hope that she will be alright.
Tomorrow, I will be re-homing Lucy. She will be moving in with my mother, where she can enjoy life in a beach town on Vancouver Island, basking in the fresh sea air and indulging in homemade treats. Most importantly, she will be in a home without children. We are fortunate to have this option, as it’s the only choice left for Lucy. She deserves to be safe, happy, and loved, just as she once saved me.
I know this is the right decision, and I remind myself of it repeatedly throughout the day. Yet, the pain doesn’t dissipate. Guilt washes over me every time a photo of Emma and Lucy surfaces on my social media, reminding me of the times I believed everything would work out. I long for those moments.
So tomorrow marks the beginning of our new reality. Parenthood is about making sacrifices, and I will make this one for my girls. Emma will head to daycare, while my mother drives Lucy to her new home. Emma will giggle and play, while Lucy runs and wags her tail. Both of my girls will find happiness again, and little by little, I hope to find my own.
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In summary, my journey of love and sacrifice for my daughter has led to the painful but necessary decision to find a new home for Lucy, ensuring both my girls can thrive in the environments they need.