Little Miss Lucky

This post is dedicated to our wee pup, Lucky, who’s not so wee anymore.

There’s this one guy at work who I always coerce to read my blog post, but lately when he does, he later says, “What about Lucky? How come you didn’t mention Lucky?” Look – Lucky’s bipeds have things to talk about too, you know. Anyway.

Lucky turns 1 today. It’s her birthday! So in her honour, this blog post’s ONLY about her. (This one’s for you, Derek. Happy now?)

Although I love having a dog, I didn’t want to have one when we lived in our old condo. I wanted a biggish dog, and didn’t want to have one in such a small space. The kids were after me for years to get a dog. My son once even said, “Mom, you know how a dog is man’s best friend? Well – I’m a man.” Then, when they knew we were looking for a townhouse, he said, “Living in a house is the first step to having a dog.” I pretended not to pick up on the hints. Once we were almost moving in after getting the townhouse though, I went by myself out to La…Ladner? Langley? Pick one. I don’t remember. There was a lady there who had one last female in her litter, I fell in love with her, chose her, then went back out there with the kids the day after my son broke his arm, under the guise of having to get some moving gear from a work friend. The kids, by the time we’d spent about 30 minutes in the car, were bored-bored-bored. Little did they know.

When we got her about 9 months ago, she looked like this:

And this (she used to lie beside the mirror closet in our old place because she thought she was sleeping next to another dog):

Can you STAND the level of cute??? I can’t take it.

We’ve been chaotically happy since getting her, from moving house and home just one short week after getting her, to puppy training her. Save for a couple of incidents, one that involved coming home to discover she’d found her dog-walker hadn’t shut her crate properly and had decided to throw herself a puppy-party for one that included the chewing of the following: one kleenex box, the natural progression of which obviously was the wall-to-wall covering of a layer of 500 kleenexes, one deck of cards (she’s fastidious; there was at least one bite mark in EACH card, jokers included), and exactly one shoe from 2 pairs of shoes. It would have been kinder of her to chew two shoes from the same pair, but whatever. She also marked her territory ALL OVER the house. She had a blast. We came home and did a three-way-unison dramatic inhale, and she was all, “Hi, guys! (wag, wag, wag) You’re home! Guess WHAT.”

Anyway, save for a couple of incidents like that, she is really a terrific little dog and it’s hard to remember what it was like before she was ours. Although having a puppy can be exhausting, particularly this puppy with a level of energy that has NO QUIT (a phase that I’m told will last a “few” more years (please be more specific!!!)), it’s worth it. We love her.

She’s people-friendly and never met a dog she didn’t like. Except for this one time a few months ago, we were throwing the ball for her at a park in Vancouver, and it was getting dark, there were lots of trees, sorta foggy, think Sleepy Hollows. Anyway, she was having the time of her life, since this ball-obsessed dog is HAPPIEST when retrieving her ball. She’s so ball-obsessed, if you’re throwing her ball, she knows NOTHING else. Well, until through the darkness, this enormous black Great Dane came bounding up. HIM, she noticed. She FREAKED and came barreling down at us as we sat on this park bench, tail between her legs, hind legs first like a hare, like, “YOU GUYS! Oh my god, what the hell IS that! HIDE! HIDE!” and she ran headlong right into the park bench first, then scrambled underneath and stayed there as we petted that sweet dog and apologized to its owners that she’d never seen a horse before. Lucky couldn’t BELIEVE we were taking our lives into our own hands like that. “What. The hell.” She came out eventually, all “Oh, nothing. How’s it going, I see dogs like you every day, whatever.” The divot in her head from the bench took a couple of months to sprout fur again. All good.

Here she is again, today. One whole year old. I gave her a brand new crunchy bone (witness the crumbs on the carpet), a kind she hadn’t had before, that gives her fresh breath. So okay that was kind of a present for me, too. Coincidence!

We just got back from her birthday party. A couple of weeks ago, my daughter thought it up, made invitations, and slipped them under the doors of Lucky’s best friends. “Meet us at the basketball court on July 20th, from 6pm to 6:30pm.” They showed up. With presents, even! Lucky was mildly enthusiastic.

Group shot: Lucky, Kira and Finnegan.

Happy Birthday, Miss Lucky. Here’s to a ton more.



  1. ohai lucky haffy burfday! u look purdy and happy wid ur doggy friends and tribe of peoples.


  2. whiskybaker says:

    Happy birthday lucky! You are such a lucky dog to have found such lovely humans to share your life with.


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