Hey Ma ‘n’ Pa, Goosey here! Just a quick recap: my ears causing smiles, stubborn with veg, scared of loud noises, best buds with Sprinkles. Currently in Spencerville, running amuck at taco joints and sniffing out books. Miss ya, but don’t you worry, we’ll meet over chicken dinner sans broccoli someday. Hugs and licks, Lucy.

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Well, folks are always asking me about Lucy, the regal little Griffon with a spirit you wouldn’t believe. When thinkin’ about Lucy, I can’t help but have a wisp of a smile creeping at the corners of my mouth. Ah, she was quite the character, Lucy was. I remember her like it was yesterday, her tan and white fur contrasting against the greens of our backyard, her designated kingdom, playground, and retreat. Yet, you needn’t look far to discover her most tell-tale feature – those large, droopy ears, God bless ’em.

Lucy’s ears were like banners of her emotions, always at half-mast when she was calm, but let her spot a worn-out toy, and boy, they stood straight up like antennas. A simple frayed rope or an aged bone could keep her in a world of her own. Throw in a spirited tussle with me, and she would be grinning from floppy ear to floppy ear, her tail wagging a symphony of joy.

Ah, but let me get to it, Lucy had her bouts of stubbornness. And nothing showed it better than the evening chow down. She’d come skidding into the kitchen like a racehorse at the mere crackle of the food packet. Yet, if she spotted a hint of green amidst the kibble…Oh, the theatrics! If disdain had a face, Lucy was it. Now, swap out the broccoli for a bit of chicken and you’d become the esteemed apple of her eye.

This quirky Griffon had her peculiarities, mind you. She wasn’t one for the racket and hullabaloo. Thunderstorms and firecrackers sent her tail tucked faster than you could say ‘boo!’ But nestled in the quiet of home, in the loving arms of her humans and snuggled against Sprinkles, her comrade in four-legged crime, she found her solace.

Now, Lucy, God bless her soul, is over in Spencerville, that canine utopia for the dearly departed, where the streets are lined with chew toys and the rain smells like dog treats. I reckon she’s causing quite a stir at Pup ‘n’ Go Taco Joint, or perhaps sniffing out the latest bestseller at The Wagging Tail Bookstore, never straying far from that streamlined pursuit of perfection.

But ’tis alright, friends. Our Lucy may have left our lives, but her spirit doggie-paddles on, over in Spencerville. And we are comforted by this notion, knowing that one day, in a place that surely has chicken and no signs of broccoli, we’ll find her, waiting, her floppy ears perked up at our return.

The End.

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