Genesius Redux
05-25-2004, 05:09 PM
I sent this report out in an email, but I thought I'd share it with the DF members as well. My ex and I had to put our beagle Ellie to sleep this morning. Here's the email:
This morning, our beagle Ellie followed her littermate Greta to the Rainbow Bridge. Both the dogs were 17. Despite thyroid problems, arthritis, and kidney disease, Ellie hung in there pretty well following
Greta's death in February. But she'd been getting slower and less steady, eating less, and waking up at night more and more often. During the last week, she was up and down a lot at night, crying. Last night Elizabeth tried everything to make her feel better, from sitting with her to taking her outside to bringing her to bed, but they were up all night until Elizabeth gave her some Torbugesic in the wee hours and she finally slept. Elizabeth's horse vet came to the house this morning, to save Ellie a trip to the clinic, and she died in the cool morning at Fox Haven
Farm, to the sounds of the birds and the murmur of the brook and the smells of the heavy spring country air she loved so much. Emma and Sophie (our two mixed breeds) stayed with her body for a while afterward to mourn.
Ellie overcame a lot in her life. Congenitally shy, she had farther to go in order to do the things that came easy to Greta. But she went from being terrified of the water to becoming an avid -- even obsessive -- swimmer and retriever-of-rubber-bumpers, shrieking with joy on the shore of Percy Priest Lake when the bumper came out of the bag. She had a hard time
overcoming her fear of agility obstacles, but once she did, Ellie ran happily and went on to earn titles--and many ribbons--in 3 agility registries, and retired Ellie CD, AX, AXJ, PDI, NAC, CGC, more titled than her littermate Greta, or any of the other dogs she lived with, consistently listed among the top ten beagles in the nation. She was shy around new people at first, but developed into our own little "slut puppy," whose
response to visitors became, "Hey, you with the hand just hanging there--make yourself useful!"
She was fanatically fond of pizza, knew what the box and the delivery car looked like. And even after going to have pizza out, I'd always have to bring the crusts home with me, because one quick sniff and she
would know instantaneously where I'd been. She always retained a winning sense of humor; one of her favorite games at night was a kind of tag game, where she would run a distance away, stand poised and tense waiting for me to blow a raspberry with my lips, at which point she'd gallop up to me to bite me softly on the nose and then run away again.
You would have to look for a long time to find another dog as sweet, loving, affectionate, brave, and willing as Ellie. Hers was a quiet, subtle, and gentle spirit who will be greatly missed. Hard as it was to lose
her, I know she is with Greta at the Rainbow Bridge--it was strange seeing Ellie without Greta these last few months, and I know they are where they belong--together. But I can still feel--and always will feel--Ellie's head pressing up under my hand, just as I can hear her shrieking on the shore of Percy Priest Lake, waiting for the bumper to be thrown just
one more time.
This morning, our beagle Ellie followed her littermate Greta to the Rainbow Bridge. Both the dogs were 17. Despite thyroid problems, arthritis, and kidney disease, Ellie hung in there pretty well following
Greta's death in February. But she'd been getting slower and less steady, eating less, and waking up at night more and more often. During the last week, she was up and down a lot at night, crying. Last night Elizabeth tried everything to make her feel better, from sitting with her to taking her outside to bringing her to bed, but they were up all night until Elizabeth gave her some Torbugesic in the wee hours and she finally slept. Elizabeth's horse vet came to the house this morning, to save Ellie a trip to the clinic, and she died in the cool morning at Fox Haven
Farm, to the sounds of the birds and the murmur of the brook and the smells of the heavy spring country air she loved so much. Emma and Sophie (our two mixed breeds) stayed with her body for a while afterward to mourn.
Ellie overcame a lot in her life. Congenitally shy, she had farther to go in order to do the things that came easy to Greta. But she went from being terrified of the water to becoming an avid -- even obsessive -- swimmer and retriever-of-rubber-bumpers, shrieking with joy on the shore of Percy Priest Lake when the bumper came out of the bag. She had a hard time
overcoming her fear of agility obstacles, but once she did, Ellie ran happily and went on to earn titles--and many ribbons--in 3 agility registries, and retired Ellie CD, AX, AXJ, PDI, NAC, CGC, more titled than her littermate Greta, or any of the other dogs she lived with, consistently listed among the top ten beagles in the nation. She was shy around new people at first, but developed into our own little "slut puppy," whose
response to visitors became, "Hey, you with the hand just hanging there--make yourself useful!"
She was fanatically fond of pizza, knew what the box and the delivery car looked like. And even after going to have pizza out, I'd always have to bring the crusts home with me, because one quick sniff and she
would know instantaneously where I'd been. She always retained a winning sense of humor; one of her favorite games at night was a kind of tag game, where she would run a distance away, stand poised and tense waiting for me to blow a raspberry with my lips, at which point she'd gallop up to me to bite me softly on the nose and then run away again.
You would have to look for a long time to find another dog as sweet, loving, affectionate, brave, and willing as Ellie. Hers was a quiet, subtle, and gentle spirit who will be greatly missed. Hard as it was to lose
her, I know she is with Greta at the Rainbow Bridge--it was strange seeing Ellie without Greta these last few months, and I know they are where they belong--together. But I can still feel--and always will feel--Ellie's head pressing up under my hand, just as I can hear her shrieking on the shore of Percy Priest Lake, waiting for the bumper to be thrown just
one more time.