Well, its probably a good thing no one really reads this because this post is probably not of interest to anyone but me. Plus, I’m sure some people think this is lame but, I don’t care because its my space and right now I want to remember my dog Eli.
Growing up I always had pets. My mom wasn’t a dog person, she was a cat person so we had cats. I still love cats and have 3. It wasn’t until I met my wife Stacey that I really was introduced to dogs. Stacey’s dog Rebound was a wonderful Shetland Sheepdog who loved to herd his family. I knew I made it in her family when two things happened. First, Rebound would try and herd me into the pack and when Stacey’s mom called me by the dog’s name which I am told is the highest complement in the family.
In any event, I found that I liked dogs and that I liked how they were always right there waiting for you and couldn’t be happier just because you were there. When Stacey and I moved to Chicago, we couldn’t have dogs in the places we could afford at the time and so, we got a cat. We always knew that, as soon as we were able, we would get a dog. It took a few years (and a second cat) but finally in 1998 we were able to buy our first place and would celebrate our first home with a dog.
Being animal people all of our pets are shelter rescue animals. So one day, shortly after we closed on our place, we made the trek to the Anti-Cruelty Society in downtown Chicago in search of a dog. We didn’t have any expectations other than that it had to be a smaller dog and potty trained. Well, one of the first dogs I saw was a small black Cockapoo which the fully name Eli. He was a year and a half old and was full of energy and spirit. I wasn’t thrilled about the name but somehow it fit and I knew I wanted him. Unfortunately, someone else had already started the adoption process so it looked like Eli was going to another home. I was frustrated and sad because he was a great looking guy and he kept looking at me with his dark eyes that sparkled. Well, Stacey and I kept looking and found another dog who we were about to seriously consider when I noticed that the hold on Eli was gone (his other adoption had fallen though). Well, it was fate and Eli and started our journey. Several hours and many questions later (the anti-cruelty society is famous for refusing to allow people to adopt) we were on our way home with our new dog. When we arrived home the cats were none too fond of the new family member but, after some hissing and raised backs, things settled down.
Back then, Stacey was traveling all the time so during the week it was just me at home. Eli was always so happy to see me when I’d come home from work and we’d hang out together. On the weekends, when Stacey would be home, he would look at her at bedtime and wonder why she was taking his side of the bed. We would go to the doggie beach on Lake Michigan, go to training classes, and basically just hang out. Eli, like me, hates bad weather and the winters in Chicago were always interesting. When it would rain, he would do almost anything to avoid having to get wet when we’d go outside. When we’d get lots of snow, he would literally buried up to his chest in snow when we’d go outside and we’d come back in and his fur would be packed with snow that wold take me forever to get off. He looked sorta like half an Oreo cookie the top half of him black and the bottom white.
One of Eli’s favorite activities was, like me, just laying in bed and relaxing watching TV. We would lay there, me on my side and him on Stacey’s…err his or in my lap. He never complained and was simply happy hanging out. Every time we’d go for a walk, there would be new adventures as the city constantly had new smells and things that Eli had to mark as his own.
Well, the time came that Stacey and I basically grew sick of her long travel and the crappy weather and made the move to Las Vegas. In the summer of 1999, Stacey packed up our Jeep Grand Cherokee with the two cats, my computer, and Eli and headed west while I stayed in Chicago to finish up a couple of things and then fly to Las Vegas to take the Nevada Bar Exam. I heard stories of Eli getting a little car sick over the Rockies and adventures of having three animals in hotel rooms and worries about barking and getting kicked out of hotels.
July in Las Vegas is not ideal weather for a black coated dog but Eli didn’t seem to care. He loved the house (it was at least 3 times the size of our place in Chicago) and he loved the big backyard. Life continued for us much as it had before just with a much better climate (Eli really like the fact it never rains here). Eli never got used to the idea that in the summer the streets were *really* hot and he was always surprised when he tried to walk on the hot blacktop.
Eli was in for a very big change in the fall of 2000 as we prepared to welcome our first child. Thinking that Eli would feel left out and wanting to make sure he had a playmate, we adopted our second dog Gabby a month before Shelby was born. Eli however was having none of that. He tolerated Gabby and I think really enjoyed her at times as they would sometimes play but as soon as Shelby was born, he became her chief protector. He would lie by her and watch over her. He was ever the loyal dog and, despite the fact that he was very stubborn, he was a good soul.
Stubborn is a word that describes Eli very well. Being part Cocker Spaniel and part Poodle (thankfully more cocker), he knew what he wanted and the consequences be damned. When I took him to training classes, is was abundantly clear that he was doing it because he wanted. I would say “sit” and he would look right at me, wait a few seconds to make sure I knew he was doing what he wanted, and then he would plop down. Whether it was pushing my limits, Stacey’s limits, or whatever, he really knew how to get his way.
Life continued and Eli continued to be my best dude and continued to be a challenge at times. I have always liked to say that cats are perpetual teenagers (somewhat aloof and independent always thinking they know best) while dogs are perpetual toddlers (always underfoot, innocent, fun loving, with a wide eyed view of the world). Eli was a perfect example of this. Every day brought new discoveries (at least in his mind) and no matter that he may have seen or done the same things over and over, it always seemed like it was the first time. He had no concept of consequences to his actions whether it was that running along the wood floor may cause him to slip to he would get in trouble for chewing holes in underwear (his favorite pastime); it didn’t matter.
As the years progressed, Eli’s beautiful black coat became mixed with gray (just like my hair) and he started to slow down. He never love his love of life or the curious look in his eyes. He started having problems with his back, just like me, and from time to time, we’d have to carry him upstairs at night because the steps would bother his back. He never complained or whined, he would just look at me with his eyes grateful that he could sleep at our feet. As more time progressed, his back would get better and he’d be back to running and racing Gabby up the stairs and fighting for the prime positions on the bed. He’d be ready to bound downstairs in the morning and to start another day.
Over the years though, time started to catch up. It was hard to see him as an old man but thats what he was becoming. He had several health scares and it was becoming clear that there was something wrong with him but, no matter how many tests we ran the vets couldn’t figure it out. It wasn’t cancer or something similar but it started to seem like his body was fighting itself. He lost weight, seemed to lose a lot of his hearing, and started to lose his balance. In late 2008, he took a nose dive and was refusing to eat and we thought maybe it was time. We discovered he would eat homemade chicken and rice so we went through a lot of chicken. He perked up a little but then started refusing that. He moved from the chicken to hamburgers and bacon. Stacey was very concerned and I was thinking that maybe he was finally done fighting. However, as he had always done before, he perked back up and began a normal eating pattern again (although with a different dog food than the other dogs of course which made meal times interesting). He got a lot better for a short time and was able to get around and even manage the stairs. This was all around Christmastime and looking back now, I’m convinced it was one last present from him to us.
As we moved into 2009, he started to go back downhill again and we knew it was just a matter of time. By this time he was over 14 and his body was just done. His spirit however refused to give up. I would pet him and he would still look at me with his curious eyes and it always seemed like he was asking “what’s next? Can we go play?” He would get progressively worse and would simply lie on the couch. He became unable to stand without assistance and going to the bathroom was a major undertaking. Finally, he had had enough. He wasn’t able to stand, and would have accidents on himself. For the first time since he came into our lives, he wimpered. He was done. He looked at me with his dark eyes, still ever alter and shiny, and I knew. He was ready. He didn’t want to leave but it was time. I didn’t want to let him go but I knew that was selfish. No matter how much I wanted or needed him, it was time. It wasn’t fair to him. He had fought long and hard and his body was just done. I think by this week he wanted desperately to run and play and it pissed him of that he couldn’t.
So today, April 4, 2009, we broke the news to our daughters that Eli was going to the vet and wouldn’t be coming home. They said their goodbyes and everyone cried. At 10 am, we dropped the girls off at my parents and Eli took his last car ride in my lap. He was loving all the extra attention and he loved being in my lap. As we waited at the vet’s office, he and I had one last minute alone as Stacey went to pay and I had my chance to say goodbye and thank him. He looked at me his eyes sparkled. He licked my hand and was just content in my lap. After the vet had put a catheter in and brought him back, we all laid on the floor and Stacey and I petted him and rubbed his ears like he loved until he was gone. He was finally able to rest peacefully. I laid there on the cold floor crying not wanting to let go but knowing he was already gone and probably that his spirit already was running and playing.
I imagine that he is somewhere now with bowls full of burgers and bacon, piles of toys, many small animals to chase and play with, and, of course, piles and piles of underwear to rip endless holes in. I can only hope that he is happy and not lonely.
I couldn’t have asked for a better first dog or friend. He never cared if I hadn’t showered or if my hair wasn’t brushed. He cared for me when I was sick and sad. He was always ready to play or simply lie with me. I still have 3 cats and 2 dogs and will have more in the future I’m sure, but there will never be another first and there will never be another Eli. He was one of a kind and the best friend I could ever have asked for. We were destined to be together from that first day and I’m grateful that he shared his life with me.
