The Lucy + Norman Story
How two oversized, lovable Saint Bernards and a cancer diagnosis created a giant-sized brand.
Saint Lucy
It started with love, and a very photogenic Saint Bernard.
For years, I documented Lucy's adventures through the beautiful forests of northern Ontario, Canada, building a little corner of Instagram for fellow Saint Bernard obsessives. Along the way, I noticed something: finding beautiful, quality things made for Saint Bernard dogs was nearly impossible. I filed that thought away and kept shooting.
Along comes Norman
A few years later we hit the road with Lucy, a camping trip down the east coast of the USA that led us to Senoia, Georgia, the small town famously known as Woodbury from The Walking Dead. Somewhere between the charm of that little town and a glass of wine too many, we decided that if Lucy was the most perfect dog in the world, why stop at one?
Enter Norman, named after Norman Reedus, a fluffy, ridiculous, 25-pound puppy absolutely full of beans. My followers fell hard for him: cheering when he finally conquered the stairs, losing their minds over his giant-puppy antics, and loving Lucy all the more for the patience she showed in teaching him how to be a proper Saint. That summer, a handful of puppy videos went viral overnight, and the account exploded. Back then, that kind of growth felt nothing short of wild, and it was.
What I didn't expect was how much I would need that community in the months to come.
A Deadly Blood Cancer
Not long after, I was diagnosed with Acute Myeloid Leukemia, out of nowhere, without warning.
When you hear the words "you have cancer," time does something strange. Everything blurs and sharpens at once. It speeds up and slows down in the same breath. You remember every detail of that moment with a clarity unlike anything else. My first thoughts weren't graceful: How do I find the strength? How do I survive this? I am not done with this life.
I leaned on my husband with everything I had, and he took the full force of it, the rage, the denial, the despair, and held steady. He became my rock in ways I hadn't known were possible.
I couldn't survive without multiple blood transfusions every week, and I needed a stem cell donor to have any real chance. Without one, my odds were 10%. Somewhere in this wide, beautiful world, someone was a match, and they said yes. Because of them, and because of every person who takes the time to donate blood, I had a fighting chance.
I began intensive treatment at Princess Margaret Cancer Centre in Toronto. That journey has now stretched over eight years, and it continues.
I tell people I was lucky to get through without major complications. My doctors would probably tell a different story. The truth is it was the hardest thing I have ever endured. On the worst nights, I buried my face in the soft folds of Norman's fur just to get through. He held me up with his giant shoulders when I had nothing left. And Lucy, in her own gentle way, used her body to help protect me from falling.
They were, in every sense, my medicine.
When There's Nothing Left, Turn Right
They say people choose dogs that mirror themselves. I believe it. I have the stubbornness of a Saint Bernard, and apparently their broad shoulders too, because just days after my transplant, exhausted beyond words, I was designing a t-shirt from my hospital bed.
That stubbornness became something real. Lucy + Norman grew from that hospital room into a collection of original designs built around everything I love most: the outdoors, open roads, wild nature, and the majestic, gentle giants who make life worth living.
Thank you for being part of our story, and for letting us be part of yours.
With so much love and a little drool,
Jen
Founder and Dog Mom to Lucy + Norman and Nola + Ellie Bean 🐾