Wanna go for a walk?

Picture in your mind with me for just a moment, if you would be so kind.

It is around May of 2000, Having lived in our first house for only a few months, something Dave wanted almost more than anything; a dog. Yes, he said to me one fine day very shortly after moving in, what we need to complete our little family was a dog.

So, off to the shelters we toured, several weekends contemplating about this one or could this happy, hyper one be the dog that we (He) so wanted. Finally, after alot of time and searching for the ideal dog we came across this little girl cowering in the back of the pen in a shelter that we almost didn't stop at due to time constraints. If memory serves, I said "what about this one?" as I was really getting tired of looking, tired of the constant heming and hawing, to be perfectly frank, I wasn't really a hundred percent into this whole idea of getting a dog. Dave replied; " I didn't even notice that there was a dog in there....." thus began what I would like to think God's plan. This little girl had been in the shelter for a while, having been dumped by her previous owners because she was too 'hyper'. At first, she was the most timid, shy, quiet pup, barely looking anyone in the eye, slinking as if we would hurt her.

We were hooked!

This quiet, passive behavior lasted a very short period once we got her home, after a period of testing the waters so to speak, she fully came into her own. She Thrived! Yes, she was very hyper, as are most puppies. She needed some house breaking, and loads of boundaries.

As a matter of fact, she is the only dog that I have ever known to have failed puppy training classes. She just didn't care to learn anything that we wanted, rather, only to appease us she managed a few things, though what ever her heart desired, we pretty much let her do. We definitely paid the price. The cell phones, remotes, anything that wasn't her toys became fodder for her to destroy. As frustrating as some of this was, we loved just about every moment of it. This was my first dog.

Ever since I was a child, thanks in part to my mother, I was borderline terrified of most dogs, this only was reinforced when I was bitten several times. Ellie was there to help show me that not all dogs her size were going to accost me. She became my hero.

When Ellie became part of our family, she entered as a shy, quiet little girl. Upon her exit one would say that she left almost the same.

This was an incredibly difficult thing to deal with, old wounds that were thought to at least have scabbed over were ripped off in a flash. Memories flooding back, the aching in my heart for the life that was leaving for her reward. I prayed fervently for her not too suffer, yet prayed fervently for more time. I wanted her to be around for at least another month, selfishly I wanted to get beyond the one year anniversary of the last two deaths. Though this was not to be.

One night Ellie became very sick, not too unusual considering that she has been progressively getting worse since January when we discovered how sick she really was. In the last month of her life, she aged had about ten years, right before our eyes she went from a very happy, energetic, content disposition to one of wanting to sleep, not wanting the very things that she made sure that we knew would please her. This night, two weeks ago, a Wednesday night, she became very sick, throwing up more than usual, the heart wrenching spasms, the look in her eyes. This night as per usual, she slept with Davey, needless to say that neither managed to get much sleep.

I woke up rather early, not my usual, Dave greeted me and in a very strained, shocked voice told me that it was time to let her go.

The appointment made, now only to sit and wait. I HATE WAITING, hate knowing what was to come, hate not having the ability to tell her what was happening, what was going to happen.

During this long wait, I think that Ellie knew what was going to happen, she licked me in the face a few times, something that she rarely, if ever, did. I lost it.

Finally the time had arrived, off we trudged, the prospect of a car ride was immensely pleasing to her.

She went very quietly, in the space of a couple of heartbeats she was gone. Almost nine years old, I felt like I had failed her in so many ways. I am generally the one who tries to fix things when they go wrong, I couldn't fix this, it had gone horribly wrong. Our hearts were broken, almost inconsolable we were seeing her in her final moments. Thankfully, we have a wonderful doctor whom was there for us in this moment of great need. Though the time was to let her go, we had to leave with out her, this was our little girl, the daughter we wanted, couldn't imagine our lives without. The little girl that has been through so much of which any one of those things could have been her undoing. The Lyme disease, the time she ran away and was hit by a car, and on and on. How do we tell those that loved her so? How do I pick up the pieces and make something good come out of this? How do I comfort Dave who seems to be hit hard by this?
Of those I had no easy answers, everyone knew Ellie, everyone who met her fell for her charm.

Time goes on, as it almost always will, we somehow managed to pick up the some of the pieces. The pain is easing, though not the guilt. We have closure, we brought her ashes home.

I find we hug our remaining dog a little more, a little harder. Spoiling him a bit more. Our other dog has been through this as well, though, I am sure that he doesn't understand. He knew that his sister was getting sick, he saw us take her away and return without her. I believe that he still waits for her to come through the door. In short, he misses her. How does one deal with this?

As for my wounds, these are something that one cannot put a salve on, for the betterment of those around me, I shove all of these emotions deep down. As this has become natural for me to do. Dave and I have become a bit closer, we have decided to wait for a while before we begin to talk about another dog.

We will work hard to keep her memory alive, after all, everywhere we look we see signs of her.