My dog has died. It's been a rocky time for me.
She was six months old. I grew more attached to Ellie in those months she was with me than I have ever felt for any other animal. I hadn't expected to grieve so heavily. My poor girl's life was far too short, but then who can change that now?
When I was sick recently, she spent the two days I was laid up in bed right by my side. She checked on me frequently, putting her wet little nose on my cheek. She brought me her toys and her blankie, and then laid down with a heavy sigh.
She was a fast runner. She loved to run and jump, she looked like she was flying.
When she wagged her tail, she wagged her whole butt.
She learned several tricks the best of which was when I would say, "Bang!", she'd flop to the floor and lay very still.
I miss her. The house is too empty now.