Elly

I don’t know that I’d call Elly a “good dog,” really. She was headstrong and ornery, and in her heyday she had the disposition of a gluttonous, mildly retarded mule. But we loved her. Even when she’d drag toilet paper all the way from the roll in the bathroom to the hallway, it would annoy the heck out of us, but we couldn’t help but laugh. We loved her. She was our Elly.

That’s why the last few months have been so hard. The fat, sassy pug wasted away. She was almost completely blind, and was clearly confused and uncomfortable much of the time. She wasn’t our Elly anymore. We held on as long as we could, but the last few days it became readily obvious that it was time to let her go.

The vet put Elly to sleep at around 8:30 this morning, December 22, 2010. It was peaceful and painless for her, and the right thing to do. That didn’t mean it was easy, or pleasant. But we held her, and we talked to her, and we loved her, and we cried as we watched her slip away.

She was our Elly. We loved her.

Goodbye, girl.

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