Lucile was born with an awful heart condition. Shortly before she was 2, the doctors said she would be lucky to live past 2. At 9, she died.
For 7 years my wife and I made sure that she got her medication and appreciation. No vacations – no assumptions. We knew that we had to fight for her every single day. She was worth it.
Typically, on her birthday, I would compare her age to that of what her life expectancy was. They said she would die at the age of 2. And then she was 3…she was 4…and then 5, 6, 7, etc. It became clear to me that she was a fighter and she would easily beat their high score.
To put it simply: if life was a game; she won 9-2. It was an absolute blowout.
They said that Lucile would die of a broken heart, but that wasn’t true. She lived with a broken heart and it was the strongest heart that I have ever known.
Taking care of Lucile was how I knew that I could be a father. When Lucile was 7, our son was born. He may not remember her, but he will surely receive stories and photos of the pet that showed unbelievable strength and simply the sweetest thing I have ever known.
I’ll always miss you, Lucile. Tell Hooligan that I said hello.
