There is a Hole in Our House

That is what Diane said during the cocktail hour last night. While we were both staring at the couch Luke should have been on.

We had to say goodbye to him on Tuesday. Lap of Love came to Brumby Road so he wouldn’t be stressed. Dr. Michelle could not have been kinder or gentler or more caring. Diane and I both shed a few tears, naturally. We kept his collar and a paw print. He’s going to be cremated and we will find a spot in our living room for his ashes and collar.

We’ve had many pets over the years: 6+ cats, 5 goats, and 3 dogs. Most of them got old and weak and needed to have their suffering ended. It is never easy. I think Luke was the hardest, certainly for me.

He came to us 16 years ago, through a chain of events that constitute a ‘butterfly effect’ almost as unlikely as the one that brought Stoker and me together. For the first time in our marriage we were completely pet-less, and had been talking about getting a dog. One day Diane was driving to Lodi and saw a small black dog wandering around on Eight Mile Road. She was headed to an appointment and couldn’t stop, but on her way home she looked for him, without success.

Later that week we were on a Friday tandem ride to The Fruit Bowl. That was very unusual; at the time I was doing most club rides on Tuesday, Thursday and weekends, and Friday was almost always a rest day. At the Fruit Bowl this small black dog was hanging around. He would accept food if you tossed it to him, but he would not get close enough to touch or pet. Ralph Lucchetti, Fruit Bowl owner and long time friend, said the dog had been there a few days and his men were feeding him. Ralph said he could get a leash on him, so Diane and I decided to take a chance and take him home.

That was over 16 years ago. He started as an ‘outside’ dog, but that didn’t last long. He made it into a dog bed in the family room, then onto the couch, and finally into the inner sanctorum of the Master Bedroom.

Who’s Bed is This Anyway? No Room For Rich

For 16 years we’ve been hearing the tap of feet on the floor or on the sliding glass door when he wanted to get out. We would hear the tinkle of the dog ID tags on his collar as he walked through his kingdom looking for a comfortable spot. We would find him on the couch or on our bed or on a patch of carpet in the sunlight on a cold winter day. He would always join us for dinner, sitting patiently and plaintively hoping his people might give him a morsel of something relatively healthy for hounds. I almost always got up earlier than Diane and while I was sipping my coffee he would often jump up into my lap and get cozy.

Diane was right, there is a hole in our house. And in our hearts.