Untitled

I'm really not certain how to post this. We had to put our dog, Ella, who we affectionately call SmElla (cuz she stinks), down today. She was our "replacement dog," if you will. We had put our 11 y/o yellow lab, Buck, down about a year before we got her. My sister worked with someone who knew someone who was moving and going to put down his two labs if he couldn't find a home for them. Well, I had finally gotten past my I'm-Not-Getting-Another-Dog-Because-I've-Got-A-GORGEOUS-Garden stage, and was getting the cravings again (dog, NOT baby). I caved, and Ella became a member of our family; let me rephrase that You-you became a member of our family. We renamed her. Her sister's name was Me-Me (not Mimi). Yeah. Awful.

She was pretty high strung, as is typical of yellow labs. We were told she was 3yrs old. We were just so excited to have a dog again, that we figured she'd outgrow the hyperactivity, like our other yellow lab did. She did pretty ok at staying out of the garden because she didn't like to be outside more than to do what a dog needs to do outside. She much preferred the inside and some would call her an attention whore - to the point of obnoxious. But we loved her.

She was the elephant in the china shop. Labs have a tail that can clear a coffee table just by walking past it at the same time the tail wags....but that would be all the time. Even up til this morning, when she was in so much pain, the tail never stopped. No, it didn't wag as much or with as much enthusiasm, but it wagged. A Lot.

I thought that telling SmallBoy what was happening was hugely important. He's 10yrs old, it's not like I could just make up some BS story, and it's important that he is learning about the tough things in life, and dealing with sadness and acceptance. I was forthright with him. I told him that Ella was sick and in a lot of pain and that we would be taking her in to the vet this week. He asked if she was going to the vet so that she could die. It was with the sweetest innocence. I told him that she was old, and in a lot of pain. That she had to keep chewing at her pain so much, that she would make herself bleed. He knew that, he knew why she had been in a cone since summer. He's seen the bloodied sofa cushions and saw, every night and every time we left the house, that we piled chairs, ottomans, speakers, whatever we could, on top of the sofas to keep her off of them because, even with the cone on, she still managed to get to some part of her rear quarters.

I felt awful when we talked. He asked, "Mommy, is the doctor going to kill her?" And it truly was innocent, not accusatory in any way. I replied with, "Sweetie, the doctor knows that we can't do anything to make her better and that she needs to be relieved from her pain. The doctors will help her to die gently so that she doesn't hurt anymore." Then, knowing how incredibly literal Aspies are, I felt it necessary to add, "That's just the way it is with animals. Not people." He made his peace with it, said his good-byes and was ok. He should be getting home from school right now to a house now ruled by the cats - ok, so they always ruled, but you get my drift. I hope he is able to pull upon that memory and remember that he understood why this was necessary.


PC brought home her chain. I'll let SmallBoy keep it. LargeBoy has Buck's chain. We will all miss her. She was a good dog who loved EVERYONE, and loved to be loved. She was faithful, loyal, and everything a dog should be. Rest in peace, Ella B.