The Porcupine

Tonight I was coming down here to write my blog post and I walked past the dog bed we kept for Lucy beside our computer desks.   It’s a small bed she rarely slept on, but it had another job it did well—it was the holder of the porcupine.

Many years ago when Lucy was very young my ex-husband and I went to Las Vegas, something we liked to do with friends frequently, and he bought her a porcupine.    This was no ordinary porcupine—it was from FAO Schwartz.   I’m not sure why my husband wanted to buy this particular item, but it became the one and only toy Lucy was ever passionate about.  

It was a hand puppet.   The entire porcupine was furry, with the porcupine “spikes” longer tufts of some fur-like material.    Over the years I expected the spikes to flatten out or lose their fluff but they remained through washings and years of play.

Lucy only was interested in the porcupine when it came alive—something that required a hand in the puppet.   The minute you got down on the floor and put your hand inside the puppet Lucy would get all animated and excited.   Making the porcupine move around like it was trying to escape from the dog only made her more excited.   She would run forward and bite at the nose, never hard, and then back off, waiting for more.

She knew it needed a person to make it come alive so on a nightly basis she would pick up the porcupine, bring it over behind our desk chairs and look up at us, barking once to let us know she was ready to play.   It was the only request she ever really had to play with any toy, but it was clear her love for the porcupine was strong.

Tonight I’ll take the porcupine upstairs, along with some of her other things and store them in the attic.    She loved the porcupine right up until the end, asking to play even when she wasn’t able to breathe well and got tired quickly.    I don’t think I could get rid of the porcupine, old and worn out as it is.   It’s a happy reminder of the fun we used to have together with Lucy.

The Big Boy Update:  My son has been working through the loss of the dog by telling people.   He saw our neighbor outside today and ran out, telling her, “Lucy died but we’re going to bury her ashes in the back yard.”    When he found out she had died yesterday he wanted to call my mother, Mimi, and tell her himself.   Mimi and Gramps were very kind to him on the phone, saying they understood and knew we would all miss Lucy greatly.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter got her harmonica this morning and was playing on it upstairs when she encountered my father-in-law, Papa.   She said to him, “this is a sad song”, playing it perhaps because of the loss of Lucy.   She played the song for Papa for a bit and then said, “this is a happy song” and played him something else.    She’s also working through her feelings in a way she can make sense of.