Goodbye, my sweet little Elsie Girl

 

She is gone.

My precious little girl passed away in my arms.

We took her to the Vet this morning. He had a look at her and noted that she seemed well. It was our choice whether we chose to do it now or later. And made no guarantees that either way would be better. He didn't know whether she would simply fade away one day, or if it would suddenly turn sour once her liver stopped working.

Wolfieboy expressed his feelings about how it seemed like she was simply waiting. The vet said that while she wasn't feeling acute pain, she would feel in general, a sense of overall crappiness. i.e. She knew that something wasn't right.

Deep down I knew that this was the right decision, but it was hard.

I held her close as the needle went in. I hugged her close and whispered to her how much she was loved. And with a graceful breath, she was gone.

I regret that I cried holding her head as it happened. I wish that perhaps her last moments alive were simply with me whispering sweet nothings in her ear, rather than have those words cut up with a few heaves and suppressed sobs here and there.


I picked wolfiepup up and got her to give Elsie a cuddle and a kiss before it happened, and Elsie made the point of turning her head around and acknowledging her, like she knew, and was saying goodbye in her own way.

It is so hard to say goodbye to loved ones. She was part of the pack for the short time that she was around.

We are putting her up on the hill in a sunny spot overlooking the valley. She always loved the sun, and always loved being up high. So I think she will appreciate it. The sun came out for a second as we started to put rocks on her cairn. Wolfiepup helped us put it together, and whenever we go for a walk, we will make a point of adding one more.

The spot where she is buried is also close enough that we'll always pass her by as we go for our walks, and when we sit down up there on the hill, we will think of her.

She was the sweetest thing I have ever met. She had her princessy ways - given the chance she would always pick the most comfortable spot she could find. She loved the fire and would sit there staring at it all night, given the choice.

When she first came she slept in our room. Every morning when the sun started peeking out at 5am, I would be rudely awoken by a cold wet tongue licking my nose.

She was notorious about showing us her lady bits. Elsie, always the lady, we used to joke.

She loved food with a passion, and I still recall with amusement the time she nearly ate my entire breakfast - which I had silly-ly left on the coffee table. Scrambled eggs and mushrooms. I was lucky to have any of it by the time I got back.

Her pound photo

I remember the first time I saw her, and how I uhmmed and ahhed about it at the time. I never regretted taking her home. She was so thin and scrawny. Skittish at anything and everything. And so hungry. Almost like she wasn't sure when her next meal would come.

You had the sweetest nature. Even the people at the pound swore that she was the sweetest dog they had ever seen go through their kennels.

She blossomed though, and settled into our routine nicely. She loved playing chasies, and would always harrangue Fred to chase her. Often she would be found quite a ways down the track behind us as we walked, sniffing out roo poo. When our calling for her finally penetrated, she ran like the wind to catch up with us.

She loved to run, and she loved the water.

She loved her creature comforts. I still remember the time we went to a Field Day and she suddenly decided she'd had enough, and just lay there in the middle of the aisle. Refusing to get up because she'd had enough. She tried it once on our walk too, but I wasn't having a bar of it, and insisted she get up and follow.

You were my little escape artist. Every once in a while I would come home to find you had jumped the pen, leaving poor Fred alone in there while you went wandering. Actually, I think you just chose to sit on the Verandah instead and root through the recycle bin.  So many times you'd spend the night outside after one of your forays. We never did find how you got in and out of the pen.

She hated kidneys. For a dog that adored roo poo, we found it amusing that she refused to eat them. Fred would gobble all of hers up. She was such a dainty eater. Taking her time, eating neatly. Or perhaps that was the cancer doing its job. I don't know. We'd noticed a few signs here and there, on and off for the last few months, but nothing to raise significant alarm bells.

There was nothing we could have done though. It was terminal. The choice was always going to be, take her now, while she's still lucid, appreciative and happy (ish), or take her later when her cognitive functions were gone.

I thank you so much, Elsie, for hanging in there. For having the stamina and the will to stay with us for longer than the Vet said. For giving us those few more precious days.

For going on that long walk with wolfiepup and I on Friday. It took it out of you, didn't it? You had me so worried and guilty that Saturday night, watching you breathe heavily.

We did the right thing, saying goodbye before it got too hard. You had a gentle, graceful and peaceful passing. But it doesn't make it any harder for us. The ones who have to stay behind.

Fred already seems a little lost without you. He gave you such a licking to, this morning. To the point where you got up as if to say, 'alright, enough already.' He loved you. You two were the best of mates. My pigeon pair.

 You were wonderful with wolfiepup. Always patient and gentle.

I remember the first time you got hit on the head by a little child holding a stick and you just sat there and took it, never minding that the mother was scolding the girl. You sat there with a look on our face as if to say, "it's ok! it's ok! really, I'm fine!"

When I was pregnant, we used to huddle together in front of the fire. Somehow or other you would manage to weasel your way into my lap and Fred was left behind.

 

You'd fall asleep in my lap with your ear against my tummy listening to the baby's heartbeat.

You had the most beautiful soulful congac brown eyes with black mascara rims.



That could give you the death stare or make eyes at you like nobody's business. I loved that all your paws were white tipped, that you had a white patch on your nose and you could see freckles on your tummy.

And I loved that when you got wet, you looked like a drowned rat. We joked that you were our own little Splinter.

Thank you, Elsie. For everything. The laughs, the frustrations, the time spent together, the love that we shared.

You were a good girl.

My girl.

I will miss you so so so so much, my darling girl.

You were my sweetheart.