So Long, Elli Mae!

2007 came to a sad close for the Campbell's. On the Saturday before New Year's Eve, I made the difficult decision that it was time for Elli Mae to, as the old hymn says, "Have a little talk with Jesus"...and do it face to face.

Old Elli Mae was 14-years old, practically blind, 99.9% deaf, and had reached a point where she was unable to stand up without help. Friday night I went out to the spot in the yard where she was laying and covered her with a towel and some leaves because she couldn't get up. I patted her a little bit and told her she wouldn't have to spend another night like that.

We got Elli Mae shortly after Robin and I moved into our first house. Robin thought she got an incredible deal - paying $50 for our "full-blood" yellow lab. It wasn't long before we realized that some random Shar-Pei had found its way into our Yellow Lab's gene pool. Those first nights were LOUD...with Elli crying and whining in the kitchen where we kept her hemmed in with cardboard boxes and other barricades.

Elli Mae was sweet...but she was on the same intellectual level as Forrest Gump. I could go on about some of her other habits...but I like to keep this blog as G-rated as possible.

Saturday morning I wrapped her up in a towel and took her for a ride in my father-in-law's truck. About halfway to the doctor's office I looked in the rear-view mirror. Incredibly, Elli Mae had managed to sit up and was hanging her head over the side of the truck enjoying the breeze. For a split second, I thought I should turn around and take her back home. But no sooner had the thought entered my mind than she slid her head back down into the bed of the truck.

When I arrived at the doctor's office, I boldly strode in and told the teenage girl that I had a dog that needed to be "put down." She asked, "What's the animal's name?" And I got the first syllable of the name out when the lump in my throat erupted. Geez - what a sap. She smiled, and said I could fill the paper work out later.

Out came the vet. We walked to the back of the truck, and he asked me if I wanted to be there when he gave her the shot. I should've stayed...but I just couldn't. So I walked away while he quietly sent "Big L" on her final journey.

He motioned to me that he was finished, and I walked over to her. He asked me to bring her around back so that he could dispose of her accordingly. I decided to carry her just so that I could hold her one final time...and I bawled like a baby the whole way.

It's AMAZING how attached you can get to something that has no soul. I mourned that entire day for that dog...and I have gone through a half-dozen Kleenex typing this short entry. It's a shame I don't mourn for all the lost people around me who DO have souls...and even sadder that I put forth so little effort to reach out to them.