She is a nice enough individual with good intentions. Yet, her ponderous gate and tendency to run into doors reveals her to be a clumsy, oblivious character.
Her apparel consists of a dark, dust-covered coat worn at all times of the day. The only noise she ever makes is a low groan or high-pitched wine. Most people are sympathetic to her condition, but some, like me, ridicule and banter her daily. She does not do well to criticism; she loves praise; and she’ll be joyful and kind to any person in the world.
People love it when they see Lucy. She is fun to be around (Most of the time). Do not put her in a room with a vacuum, though. She will go ballistic. She squishes her-self into little corners and lays there as if she will blend into the wall. When I vacuum, the temptation to chase her is too great. As I move in her direction, she tenses up. I make a quick run for her. She is way too quick for her size. She jumps up and begins to run franticly away from her tormenter. Mercy is not on my schedule. I continue to chase her, forcing her to fit in to tight places only a mouse should be made to fit in. She must have some form of super power. She walks through walls, fits underneath couch cushions and does so many feats worthy of praise. I have not to this day been able to catch her with the vacuum.
The one thing that primary sets her apart from others of her kind is here awkwardness. She will not eat her food until she is the only being in the room (Not including her buddy Ritz). She will stand by the back porch door and stare inside. If a car passes by she will bark at it while continue to stare into the house, as if she is doing here job as guard dog. If she were working for cash she would be fired.
Besides all of her flaws she is still a smart dog, in her own little way. She is kind and loving. She rarely complains—only when I have my foot on her head. She is all-around an interesting and amusing Character in my life. She is our family dog.
