Remembering Ella

Pet dogs have always been a present feature in our household when growing up as a kid. They were always my best of friends. In my young adulthood, through knocking about, going to university, from job to job, from community to community, forced at times to live with roommates that weren’t at all ideal, agreeable, or kind to me, I gained a rather good sense of how much the rest of humanity was becoming more of a nuisance to me than as a source of refuge and comfort, being the introverted person I am. As my girlfriend might probably say, sometimes dealing with people all the time becomes a bit too peopley. As life went on, once I was established and had the means and freedom to live on my own, I decided to welcome a dog into my life because I never found them to be nuisances to the same degree as people. I realized that a dog was the element I missed that made a home feel like a real home for me, and despite the fact that most of the rest of humanity was something I wanted kept locked out on the other side of my home’s door, I didn’t really favour the thought of being completely alone either. Dog ownership was the best compromise for me as a single guy. I wanted a smaller dog: as I lived in a small space, and what they lacked in size, strength, and power, they seem to tend to make up for in amiable personalities; honest personalities to boot. I constantly jumped at the chance to look after my friend’s little guy whenever she needed a sitter for him. After she watched me gush more than a few times while playing around with her fur-baby, she finally told me that what I really needed to do was to get my own dog. I thank her for that advice still today.

In the summer of 2006, I got around to doing just that. I regarded it as one of those bigger life decisions that I shouldn’t be making alone. So, I invited that same friend to join me upon answering an ad, one pleading for someone to re-home a puppy, who was barely weaned and being viciously bullied and unwelcomed by two larger dogs established in that household. She needed to be essentially rescued from them. She was so new to them that they didn’t even settle on giving her a name yet, although Daisy was being mulled over (not at all what I would have chose). On that fateful day, I saw her and fell in love with her instantly. It was instinctual – she was a tiny little thing with great big eyes, and colourings that sort of reminded me of one of the favourite dogs I had as young child. She was a strange mixture of long-haired chihuahua, and pug, and a fraction of some other kind of small terrier. I didn’t hesitate to put down a deposit on her to secure her before I made a weekend trip to Edmonton, and then snapped her up eagerly when I returned – still not knowing what to name her yet.

After a couple of days of trial and error of trying to get her acclimatized to her new home, I thought it would be a prudent measure to get her re-socialized with other dogs, preferably with ones that were more her size due to her recent past of intimidation from large ones. So, I took her to a local dog park to do that. I thought also that way it would be practical to get ideas for proper names. As we made introductions, I asked several small dog owners I met there straight out, “What would you name this dog?” Being that most were older ladies, stricken with the sight of her puppy cuteness, I got a wild series of names that were a little too cutesy for the likes of me, like: Sugarplum, Daisy (again), Boo Boo, Peanut, Ella, Mousey, Gi Gi, etc. At some moment, I turned my head a little too long from her, and she ran off without me noticing. I was faced with the problem of trying to call back a dog that had no name. I walked around calling out all the mixture of these random names I was given, hoping she would respond and appear to one of them. As I was calling out the words “Ella!, Boo Boo!”, a lady stopped me with a curious question to ask: “Sir, are you Greek?”. Somewhat perplexed, I honestly replied that I wasn’t. She told me that she thought so initially because she heard me call out “Ella”, which is an imperative command in Greek directed to familiars meaning “Come here!”, and “Boo-Boo”, which she thought was a term of endearment for a fat little baby. Hence, she thought I was calling out “Come here, fat little baby!” in Greek. I took this humorous misunderstanding to heart, and she thenceforth became my Ella Boo Boo, or just Ella for something more dignified.

From that summer onward, I had the pleasure of watching her flourish and grow into a popular presence in our old neighbourhood in Nutana. She was always up for enthusiastically and delightfully greeting, and being greeted by, many shopkeepers, local neighbours, and pedestrians along Broadway Avenue, becoming her own smash hit amongst them, choosing her favourite Aunties (she preferred approaching women over men) amongst the more familiar ones who spoiled her with treats. That probably helped to make her an even fatter fat baby. She was no less sociable and genial to the new neighbours when we moved from there to our new dwelling. She asserted herself in dutifully being my alarm system. I guess she instinctively knew that thing about me that I had mentioned earlier: about me wanting to keep the rest of humanity on the other side of my door. She preferred to greet people with loud, boisterous, barks, but most of the time with a big smile once she got some favourable attention. When she was happy, her positive energy was contagious. Some of her favourite things to do were as follows: playing addictively with her Kong toy loaded with Rollo meat, visiting her human grandparents; exploring and frolicking in their garden, being my co-pilot in car rides and road trips; especially when the windows could be rolled down, shopping at the pet-friendly stores, sleeping by my feet, and collecting herself a bigger social circle of aunties.

To not give her credit for helping me to become a better, happier, and more humane, person would be improperly dismissive. Yes, I initially brought her home to rescue her, but during those times when I suffered my darkest days, both physically and mentally, it was her presence and her unconditional love that helped a lot to rescue me. I had the obligatory mission to reciprocate, and to find the strength to protect her no matter what I was going through, like any parent would if they genuinely loved their child, and that did a lot to prompt me to find the courage to endure and heal during those times. I never became a father to any human children; I never found any chance to do so. I always thought that if I did I would never really have been a good one; if the way I treat my dog is some reflection of the way I would have treated my own kids, the flaw may have been that I would have spoiled them too much - sometimes way beyond my own means. As the course of this pandemic unfolded, I dare say Ella’s company was very much instrumental for helping me persist from feeling too isolated and alone at home, and to keep my wits about me as I lived through this past year of it.

As the days appeared when she was stricken with something of which I was becoming certain that she would never recover from, I did all I could to give her as much peace, comfort, and affection as she had the strength and energy to handle. Over three days, her decline was becoming rapid. For our last day together, I took her to one of her favourite parks: to rest on the fresh clean grass, to listen to the birds, and to smell whatever it was that the wind blew her way. I’m grateful we shared that good hour or so at a place where the sight of the newest green of the freshly appearing spring leaves was coming forth. A favourite sight of mine to see along with my favourite pet. I’d like to think of it as a sign of a sweeter new life coming to her. The last photo I have of her alive that I posted on social media with the news of her demise was of her taking this scene in.

I’m writing all this a few days after she was laid to rest. Being there to watch her pass away, and the very raw, emotional moments of saying my final goodbyes to her are still fresh experiences to me. What I’m struggling for, and want most now, is some clarity of thought amidst all this grief, and writing is an exercise that often helps out with that. I do this purely for the selfish measure of keeping her memory alive in me, as another chapter in my own book of life. Knowing that she’s gone is even harder to process given that she was a tough little critter, so resilient at recovering and healing from past health afflictions. There were a couple of times when I thought that she was going to easily outlive me. What I will miss about her would be a long and exhaustive list if I could ever find the words to write for it all; so I’ll keep that for my own heart to hold. If you, as a reader, ever had and lost a favourite pet, I should hope that reading this brings back the memories of your own companionship and love for them. God willing, if you played life right, there should be lots of happy ones.

The condolences I received were appreciated. My thanks to everyone who offered them.