Lucky Lady

Lucky Lady

Suzanne Marsh

August 13,2011

Neely, Missouri

“This looks like a good place to stop and eat.” The truck stop had a real restaurant, not to mention a good-sized parking lot for trucks. The evening was chilly and rainy. My husband and I headed for the restaurant when we noticed a small dog running around the parking lot on three legs. The dog was running up to strangers begging for food. We already had a dog on the truck, but somehow it just didn't seem fair to the dog, especially since she was in the gas aisle, which was very close to the road. My husband turned to me: “That dog is going to get hurt so close to the road. If it is here when we come out of the restaurant, we will put it on the truck. ‘Oh Lord, just what we need, another dog.’ I thought to myself. I had to admit she was a beautiful animal.

We ate dinner, and she was still running around the aisle. Earl just could not leave the dog there; he went in and inquired about the dog. The C-store clerk informed him that the dog had been thrown out of a moving vehicle. That explained why she was running on three legs. The rain continued, and my husband asked me to get a towel so we could dry the dog off. She huddled at my feet until we stopped for the night.

When we arrived home, we took the dog to the Vet. He checked her hip, she growled, then yipped. We asked the vet if this was going to be a small dog. The vet snickered:

“That dog is not done growing yet. That is a chocolate Labrador Retriever. Those dogs do not mature quickly; it takes around six years for them.” We stood there dumbfounded: “Six years to mature?” The vet repeated: “Yes, six years.” What had we gotten into?

We called his Aunt and asked her if she wanted the dog once again. When she heard big feet, she said no. We named her Lucky Lady; we should have named her “the escape artist”. Lucky was more than we bargained for. She quickly learned to open and close the truck windows with her nose. The weather was becoming colder, and Lucky wanted the window open, but I was cold and wanted it to remain closed. We were driving down the road when she stood up on her hind legs and opened the window. I closed the window again. This ritual of opening and closing the window continued for the next twelve years.

Lucky was an escape artist; she could open the front door with her nose, and then she would saunter out and down the street. It is a good thing I was only in my sixties at the time, since I had to chase after her; the only thing I lacked was a butterfly net to catch her. She never went far, just far enough for a good run. When I would catch up to her, she would sit, those yellow/brown eyes looking at me as if to say: “Let’s play that game again, that was fun.” I stood there glaring at her.

Bedtime was crazy; with two dogs, both wanted to sleep on the bed. The beds in the trucks are barely large enough for two people, let alone two dogs. Lucky liked her half out of the middle, and I found myself pressed against the wall of the truck more than once. Then we discovered that Lucky slept on her back; most dogs sleep on their sides. We then attempted to convince her to sleep in the driver’s seat; that went over like a lead balloon. She used the steering wheel as a pillow, which worked well until she would get back up on the bed in the middle of the night. She, for some reason known only to herself, loved to wake us up around one in the morning for a trip outside. That ended after a few weeks on the truck.

Lucky had a way of reaping havoc, confusing and confounding us. Lucky had a squeaky toy, a skinny fox with two heads. She loved to play fetch, so what happened to the fox? Lucky and Earl were playing fetch. Earl suddenly discovered the toy was missing. We looked all over the house; no toy. We thought maybe she had hidden it somewhere in the house. Four days later, our niece was helping us rake and clean the yard. She found the missing toy. What goes in must come out. It relieved our minds, but in the same breath, we decided not to give her any other squeaky toy.

Lucky loved to ride in the car, as do most dogs, except she liked the wind in her face. She quickly learned how to open the car windows. I don’t think there is anything funnier than watching someone’s window go up and down while it is raining. I would put the window up, and two seconds later, the window went back down. As I stated, she and I had a battle of wills, although I am not sure who won those battles. It was more like a draw.

Her puppy years flew by. We adopted a little dog named Siren, who is half Yorkie and Lhasa Apso. Had we not taken her home, she would have been euthanized in two days. We brought her home, and Lucky was not so sure about this dog. One day, while we both were home, Lucky sat on Siren, and Siren growled and yipped. Lucky moved, and Siren jumped into my lap.

Time has a way of catching up with all of us. Lucky’s muzzle was turning white. Her hip bothers her more. She slept most of the time in our daughter’s bedroom. We went to Kansas to visit our youngest daughter, and a friend of ours watched the dogs. We weren’t even out of Texas when the cell phone rang. It was our friend; she was frantic, and she could not find Lucky. We told her to look in the bedroom under the window. Sure enough, there was Lucky, half under the bed.

Lucky passed away in 2021. She was such a beautiful dog, and I think the most challenging. I miss her a great deal, even though we have four little dogs that would make a smaller Lucky.

I am glad we put her on the truck, although it is hard to imagine doing the dog a favor and, in return, dealing with the consequences. Good-bye, my friend.