The Dog Whose Heart Was Bigger Than Her Bark
She can’t jump as high these days, so I lifted her into my bed. I patted the spot next to me, and we snuggled, as we have so many times before. I stroked her fur, I buried my face in her familiar scent, and I sobbed, and I sobbed, and I sobbed, acknowledging for the first time that this would be the last time.
Ella wasn’t a “good dog,” at least not by boring standards. Let’s put it this way: You know how when a really good person dies, we say things like, “She would’ve given you the shirt right off her back”? Ella was less give-you-the-shirt-off-her-back and more take-the-biscuit-right-out-of-your-hand (which she did, many times).
I’ll never forget the trainer at PetSmart telling me at our third session that my new alpha puppy probably wasn’t the chill brewery companion I’d hoped for, or how the doggy daycare said simply, “Some dogs can’t be boarded,” or how the groomer called and pled, “Can you come get her a little early … please …?”
From the start, I learned to respect Ella for who she is, whether she was terrorizing every delivery person, neighbor or house guest with her boisterous hellos; jumping on kitchen chairs to lick leftovers off the table; pulling salmon skin out of the trash and using it to mop the kitchen floor; or waiting until you’re finally relaxed on the couch to bark, demanding to be let out, served dinner, or served an appetizer *before* dinner. Ella loved an hors d'oeuvre – and I loved Ella.
Over the years, I found a groomer who “gets” her and planned trips where she could either join us or stay back with people she trusted. As for the training, well … maybe she was poorly trained (my fault) – but she was also, in my opinion, simply too smart. She could sit, stay and even “dance.” She just didn’t want to, and Ella never did anything she didn’t want to do.
Most importantly, she was exactly what I needed, always. In my early 20s, she forced me to grow up and think about someone other than myself. For all the years I lived alone, she was both my fiercest guard dog and snuggliest spooning buddy. At really low points in my life, her bossy, insistent barking was the only thing that got me out of bed when I’d just as well rot. She was there for the high points, too, even staying at the hotel the weekend of our wedding (where she tried to lunge and ankle-bite another bride as she walked down the aisle, but that’s a story for another day). And if we ever worried about how she’d be around our babies, she proved us wrong, loving them more gently and patiently than I ever could’ve dreamed.
Ella barked big – but she loved bigger. And I loved her just as big.
So, no, Ella wasn’t your textbook “good dog.” She was more than that. For 12 feisty but fabulous years, she was the BEST dog for me.
Life is too quiet without her.
