LULU

Lulu…

Someone said we are given memory so we can smell roses in December.

I had expected it to be on the front page of the Sunday paper, condolence calls, and flowers at the front door.  But there were none, nor were her life’s accomplishments in the obituary section of the paper. 

No one’s life was better for having known her, but mine.

 

 

 

 

She was the epitome of beauty.  When she and I took long walks, cars would stop to just look at her.  Her eyelashes framed her large eyes, as she followed every move I ever made. 

She wasn’t social or exuberant and her favorite place on earth was inside the house.  It was the only place she ever really wanted to be.

Her first two years she spent confined to a cage, barely big enough for her to turn around in.  On weekends, she was left alone in the dark.  She hated closed in spaces and longed for freedom.  I took her into my heart and home to find that she would take great delight in blessing my home with large branches, huge dirty footprints, and a dead rat.  The sofa cushions would become toys and were often found in the back yard.  Her beautiful white fur would decorate the shrubbery like Halloween decor.

She spent her last winter, as I had hoped she would, chasing birds and sniffing the air with contagious enthusiasm and energy.

Lulu taught me patience, tolerance and that good things come sometimes in very large, noisy packages.  She hated cameras and being left alone.  Despite her 145 pounds she was unobtrusive and preferred to stay in the background.  She was terrified of thunder and hated the long hot days of summer. 

The lid of the toilet had to be open and the kitchen countertops needed to be scrutinized for possible leftovers. Many a sandwich disappeared, if I had to answer a phone call.

Lulu and I went through 4 vacuum cleaners.

She would have loved today.  Bright, cool, crisp and blue skies. 

I watched her being born and held her just minutes later on New Years Day.  I gave her her first bath.

Once I admitted her into my life, I’ll never forget her.  I sometimes sense her in the kitchen nudging the pantry door to remind me that suppertime is close.  I always felt safe with her around.  When in truth, it was more likely Lulu who felt safe with me around.

 I am glad she knew no harm would ever come to her -ever again. Several years ago she left me, but each day I remember her by her photograph in my office.  I tell her good morning and begin my day. I truly loved her.