My Journey With Ellie
It was early October 2003: a warm, sunny autumn afternoon… one of those perfect Durango fall days you can’t wait to get off work and go hop on your bike or get out for a hike. And it was the day my life forever changed.
I was working as a social worker at the old Mercy Hospital, visiting with an elderly woman in one of the old patient rooms on the 3rd floor. Halfway through our conversation, we were interrupted by a knock on the door. “Can we come in?” the volunteer from the Humane Society asked? “Of course,” my patient said… and in they came, the volunteer and one of the cutest dogs I’d ever seen.
“Bitsy” was a small terrier/schnauzer mix with big brown eyes, a scruffy beard, and huge ears that were disproportionate to the size of her body. And so quiet and well-behaved.
A few minutes later, as they were leaving, my patient looked at me and said “Honey, are you in the market for a new puppy? Because that’s one of the cutest dogs I’ve seen in a really long time.
And indeed, I had been keeping my eyes out for the “just right” dog. I had just moved into a new house with one of my co-workers, Myra, and it had a fenced in yard, plenty of room for a dog, and Myra had a 6-year old pup who would welcome a companion.
I didn’t grow up with dogs but I had been desperately wanting one for a while. The timing and situation hadn’t been right until then, though. I’d lived in Chicago prior to moving to Durango and it didn’t feel fair to leave a dog alone in an apartment for 8-9 hours a day while I was at work. And while I’d lived in Durango for almost a year and a half at that point, my previous landlords didn’t allow dogs.
So, I talked to Myra who gave me the green light and then I went out to see if little “Bitsy” was still available for adoption. Indeed, she was. Later that day, it was a Saturday afternoon, I brought home the little dog who would soon after be renamed Ellie.
That evening, Saturday night, I was co-hosting a surprise 40th birthday party for a dear friend. The party was at our friend Tom’s house and I asked Tom if it was okay to bring my new puppy. He said sure, no problem, there would be lots of other dogs there. And there were: probably 6 or 7 other bigger dogs: labs, retrievers. Ellie was by far the smallest dog at the party… but by far the loudest!
The little seemingly well-behaved dog I met that day in the hospital had been sprung from jail and was showing her true colors now. She ran around, humping these other dogs who were two three times her size… jumped up and tried to grab hamburger patties off the table, and every 15 or 20 minutes she would just stop in the middle of the room and bark at the top of her lungs. I was mortified. And I could tell: I was going to have my hands full.
This was the beginning of my education about terriers. Oh my. Raising Ellie took a village. I was so grateful to have my housemates, Myra and Rick. The three of us all learned quickly that this little dog was both whipsmart and fiercely tenacious. She was alpha through and through and would back down to no one or no other dog.
She was also an escape artist and loved to run away and explore on her own. One evening, she got out and ran off and the three of us were out looking for her with our flashlights for close to an hour (have I mentioned that my roommates were angels? They did this all with me and I never once recall them complaining. In fact, as time went on, Ellie would often hop into bed and sleep between the two of them… and they allowed it, perfectly happy to have her downstairs in their room with the rest of the animal pack). I was in our neighbor’s back yard where there was a stone ledge that overlooked a sloping lower part of their yard that went down to the fish hatchery and as I inched my way down to the end I almost started to cry I felt so frustrated. It was dark and getting late and we all had to work the next day.
And then, I happened to look down, and see this little furry being sitting there looking up at me as quiet as she could be. She was perfectly still, trying to evade being caught. This was how smart this dog was. I got her a nice loud cat bell for her collar after that.
And then there was the skateboard incident. Ellie hated the sound of skateboards with a vengeance. She would lunge after them if I didn’t have her on a short leash and I always had to be careful on our river trail walks. One day, when she was about 7, I was walking her with my friend, Julie. We had passed the skate park and were crossing over the 9th street bridge and I was engrossed in the conversation and didn’t notice the two teenage girls heading towards us, one of them on a skateboard. But it was too late.
Ellie lunged at the girl on the board and went straight for her ankle, tearing her jeans and leaving bite marks on her ankle. The skateboard came out from underneath the girl, went right underneath the railing, and straight into the Animas River. I’m not kidding. And the first thing that came out of this girls’ mouth? “Oh my GAWD! That was my boyfriend’s BRAND NEW skateboard. He’s gonna kill me!!!” I bought the boyfriend a new skateboard, but for weeks afterwards I was somewhat fearful that I might get a phone call from this girl’s parents threatening to sue me. Thankfully, that never happened.
This is one of hundreds of stories I have about Ellie. She was a little dog with a bigger than life personality who always kept me on my toes.
She was a little dog with a bigger than life personality
who always kept me on my toes.
She was also VERY lucky.
In 2008, I was thinking about leaving Durango for the Pacific Northwest when I happened to meet my now husband. Who also happened to own a dog treat company at the time. And not just any treat company. It was our favorite.
I’d met an amazing man and she hit the doggie jackpot in terms of a new Dad who would take her to work where she got to play with 9 or 10 dogs every day and get an endless supply of her favorite treats. (Of course, and I’m not joking, the first time he ever took her into the office with him after we’d been dating for a while he came home that night and said “Well, there’s officially a new alpha dog at the office.”)
Ellie also escaped numerous scrapes with bears, raccoons, horses and barbed wires fences, and getting run over by a truck in our driveway. … often not unscathed (my vet bills over the years were huge) but always bouncing back like a cat using one of those nine lives.
And then, in May 2015, when Ellie was 12, we thought her luck may have run out. We found a big tumor in her lung during a routine senior pet exam. After conferring with two vets who both thought she was strong and healthy enough to undergo surgery, I took her up to the Colorado State University Vet Clinic in Fort Collins so that they could remove it.
A week after the surgery we got the call from the surgeon. Indeed, it was cancer. The big silver lining was that they’d removed it all with clean margins. Yippee!! This bought her almost another four good years with us.
But Ellie began to slow down after that. We took her up to Ice Lakes Basin for her last high country hike the following summer, and slowly after that she began to show signs of her aging. She gradually went deaf, began to nap more and more, and before my very eyes this tenacious, strong-willed dog began to soften and slow down. It was sweet to witness and truly such an honor to take care of this senior dog as she slowed down and require more and more care.
Because while I’ve shared with you some of her more crazy moments Ellie was also my beloved companion, right there by my side through so many major life events and, of course, the everyday life we shared for all those years.
My husband and I had a business in Hawaii and spent almost half the year there from 2015-2019. Ellie got to go back and forth and spend a good chunk of her golden years there with us on the Big Island. On January 9th, 2019, we packed up both our dogs and headed out to the Durango airport to make the trip back to Hawaii. Our younger dog, Charlie, weighed 45 pounds and flew in cargo, but Ellie was small enough to come in the cabin with us. She had a number of health issues going on at this point, but our vet felt she was stable to travel as long as we were aware of the risks.
That first flight was probably the longest 45 minutes of our lives. Ellie was clearly in distress, wouldn’t sit still, and started yelping, something she rarely did since she’d gone deaf. When we finally got off the plane in Denver she could barely hold herself up so I carried her and we found a quiet corner where the three of us could sit down.
The look in her eyes was so clear: it wasn’t just that she didn’t feel good. We had come to the end. There was no way we would put her through a 7-hour flight to try and get her back to Hawaii with us. I doubt she would have even survived it.
So there we sat, on the floor in Terminal B of the Denver International Airport. Me sobbing and trying to compose myself so I could comfort sweet Ellie. And Patrick feeling torn because he didn’t want to leave his two girls yet someone had to fly on to Kona to meet Charlie so Charlie didn’t end up in quarantine.
Ellie and I were fortunate to be surrounded by so much love as the day continued to unfold. My friend, Kathleen, a huge dog lover herself, who lives in Denver, happened to be free and came to the airport to pick us up and take us back to the home where she and her husband Paul lived. She had one of her old dog’s dog beds out and ready for Ellie… a huge bed from Orvis that was 5 times Ellie’s size. I called it her “princess deathbed” because, well, it was true!
Ellie and I were fortunate to be surrounded by so much love
as the day continued to unfold.
Before I left the airport I had contacted a pet hospice and arranged for a vet to come out later that evening.
After spending most of the afternoon laying next to Ellie, on the floor of Kathleen and Paul’s living room, petting her… comforting her… and being comforted by my friends on what was one of the most painful days of my life… I watched her peacefully slip away about 5:30 that night.
Ellie and I both had lessons to teach one another in this lifetime, I believe that’s why she came into my life. She taught me about what it means to be fierce, tenacious, resilient… qualities I’ve embodied more deeply as I’ve navigated the intensity and challenges I’ve faced in my own life. And I taught her about slowing down, softening, allowing herself to receive more affection and love.
Ellie was right by my side, and a comfort to me, during some of the most challenging and also most joyful times of my life. Breakups, going through big changes in my professional life, falling in love with and marrying my husband, a milestone birthday, years of infertility treatment, geographical moves and building a life in a new community where we used to live for half the year.
These little furry bring so much love into our lives, don’t they? They seep into our hearts and give us unconditional love and moments of pure, unadulterated joy. They’re there for us through all of our successes and failures, ups and downs, all the joys and the incredible sorrows, too. I believe that the love we share with our pets is healing. It’s so pure and uncomplicated. They love us for who we are. Not for what we accomplish or how much money we make or what other people think about us. What a gift to share this kind of connection with them.
I believe that the love we share with our pets is healing. It’s so pure and uncomplicated. They love us for who we are. Not for what we accomplish or how much money we make or what other people think about us. What a gift to share this kind of connection with them.
So, my journey with Ellie began on that warm fall day in Durango and it ended on a warm, 60-degree winter day in Denver on the floor of my friends’ living room as I watched her slip away.
But it’s really all the moments and all the days we shared in between that I will hold most dear in my heart. It’s the connection we shared for those fifteen years that will always stay with me and bring a smile to my face.
It was a gift and an honor to have Ellie in my life all those years. Ellie, may you rest in peace. I hope you’re having a blast over that Rainbow Bridge running around again with all your other doggy friends and your Aunt Myra who have passed on before you.