She will be missed

A little over 14 years ago, I walked by a pet store and saw some puppies in the window. They weren’t puppies bred for a pet store, as I'm not really a pet store girl, but three 12-week-olds someone was trying to find homes for. Ellie was the smallest. With her umbilical hernia, the clerk working the store knew she would be a hard sell.

The next day I returned to take her home with me, dubbing her my 30-dollar-dog, as they only charged me the cost of her vaccinations.

Strong-willed, stubborn, and as smart as any dog I’ve met, she was immediately a handful. Always on the move and often leaping several feet into the air to get there. Early on I took her to a trainer who told me he’d work with her for three weeks and have her following basic commands. Three months later the trainer and I finally said our goodbyes. He shook his head and declared her one of his toughest, but most wonderful, challenges. I think she might have been preparing me for another headstrong (and just as delightful) girl who would enter my life nearly a decade later.

She got me through the tough years. The ones where you go home to an empty house and swear you're going to be alone forever. Except you’re not because someone is wagging their tail and impatiently nudging her food bowl. She kept the bed warm, made hikes more enjoyable, and never failed to join me on the couch for Saturday afternoon football.

My dear girl, I’d like to think you’re resting somewhere peaceful now, in a perfect spot of sunshine, with a belly full of something delicious you just stole off the counter.