Losing a pet is never easy. Jim Oswald mourns the loss of his canine companion, Lulu.
Our dog Lulu, a short-hair, Miniature Dachshund, was just 10 pounds, but her presence filled every corner of our lives. She passed recently, after nearly 16 years of companionship to me and my husband, and it’s hard to describe the hole she’s left behind.
Lulu wasn’t just a pet. She was a sidekick, a therapist, a court jester and the CEO of snuggles. She was always game for adventures — road trips, camping, beach days, you name it. At Fort Funston, she would dig sand chutes to roll her ball down for hours, fully lost in her own joyful genius.
She was a creature of hilarious contradictions: fiercely protective with a bark that could startle a pit bull, yet gentle enough to burrow under the covers and fall asleep pressed against our sides. Her love language was kisses—dozens daily — and the clickety-clack of her nails on the kitchen floor became the soundtrack to our home. In grieving Lulu, I’ve been thinking about what our pets really give us. Not just the companionship — but a sense of presence.
Lulu did not dwell on the past or worry about the future. She taught me to appreciate the moment: a sunny patch on the floor, a treat from a stranger, a car ride with the windows down.