I hadn’t really planned on getting a french bulldog, but a series of fortunate events saw us welcome this little, big-eared frenchie into our home.
Lulu settled in quite nicely with the rest of the pack, but it was clear from the get-go that she was different. Smarter, stronger, and spryer than our three pugs, she seemed to possess boundless energy, playing relentlessly until she would collapse in a heaving but clearly content heap.
She was also very sneaky. There were times when I would come home to find her standing on the kitchen table, looking guiltily back at me with that “Shit, you’re home early!” look.
And while that adventurous spirit wasn’t always the cause, she WAS a regular at our local vet. Over time, the cone of shame became her trademark accessory.
She was an obsessive gal, enamored of her various toys.
And she developed her stick-fixation at an early age.
Throughout her life, Lulu played hard – but rested even harder.
Particularly in her later years, she loved a good snooze.
She wasn’t huge on walks, especially in her later years, but she did love the sun. She would often park herself by the window and while away the hours soaking up the rays.
Despite her tough girl stature, she was incredibly sensitive.
But an overwhelmingly happy dog.
Her laid-back nature made her a great companion to our cantankerous special needs rescue, Suji, who took a quick liking to her. It helped that in addition to being laid-back, Lulu was infinitely patient.
In her later years, she slowed down significantly, developing hip and spinal issues that made walking difficult. And yet, despite her mobility issues, she remained spirited, spry – and very stubborn.
At twelve and a half years old, she had the distinction of being the oldest frenchie in the neighborhood. And, while she no longer enjoyed the company of other dogs, ignoring them for the most part whenever she encountered one at the park, she loved nothing better than the attention she would receive from passersby.
This morning, Lulu collapsed after finishing her breakfast. I believe she suffered a stroke. We rushed her to the vet only to be told her heart had already stopped beating.
I’ll miss her snoring and determined attempts at sleeping in, the way she would demonstrate her disdain for walks by turning around and immediately heading for home, her brilliant strategy of barking incessantly whenever I was on the phone until I would give her treats to shut her up. But mostly I’ll miss the sweetest french bulldog I have ever known.
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