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The tale of a goose named Lucy

The day came last week when I decided that the three different types of antibiotics I was using were no longer working and you were completely blind in your one remaining eye, I knew the kindest thing to do was the hardest decision to make.

I cried; I cuddled you; I photographed your last morning as the sun warmed your back.

After 30 years of you being you, I was ready to call time on your little life. With a broken heart, I called out the vet for the umpteenth and final time.

He studied you, examined you then watched your little waddle. Then he turned to me and told me that you were happy and that being blind wasn’t a reason to die. I could have kissed him, but kissed you instead. I now have to carry you to your food and water three times a day and put your beak in it and watch you eat, drink, wash and play in your bath. I love you little Lucy, you are worth every muddy footprint I have on my work clothes and every disapproving look I get when I run into work late on a daily basis.

Bless you little Lucy, I hope you live for another 30 years, but just wish you’d do it quicker so I don’t actually lose my job.

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