Ellie Mae is sick; the vet says she has cancer.
We got Ellie Mae in 1995 as a gift for my Father; she was somewhere between 1 and 2 years old, had given birth to a litter of pups, and had subsequently been fixed. We think she's a beagle, though in true country parlance, we refer to her as a "beagle hound".
At first the vet thought, at the age of 14, Ellie Mae would be too old to try and cut the tumor out, but upon a check of her heart, he says it's worth a go. The tumor is in her belly, and if she comes through the anesthesia and the tumor is self-contained, she might end up being fine. The tumor has only showed as a patch of missing fur; my mother says she's as active and prissy as ever! She'll had surgery today.
Ellie has always been what I call a "hunting dog". She's never been used to hunt mind you, but she roams around "Hagler Hill" in what I suppose are quests for adventure, small, furry animals to pester, and to spend time with my Uncle, who she seems to be quite enamored with. She's quite fiery when it comes to her turf; she's barks rather viciously at anyone or any car she doesn't recognize when it comes into our yard (she's pinned a few UPS delivery men in their truck in her day). The amazing thing is that when I drive up, even after all these years of living in Houston, she doesn't bark! It doesn't seem to even matter what car I'm in; I guess she's learned to look inside the car and even though I only see her a few times a year, I suppose she still recognizes me.
When she realizes it's me, she goes crazy because she know she can get in the house whenever she wants; my Mother won't stop her with me there! Though she loves to hunt in the day, she's clearly a house dog at night. My Mother won't let her far in the house; Ellie has a rug just off the kitchen that she has to stay on. She always goes to her rug, gives it a quick smell, and beds down to sleep for ever how long she gets to stay indoors. I'm not sure if she wants to be indoors simply because it's better "weather" than outside, or if she just likes being around us ... who knows what's going on in her doggie brain.
Ellie's secret passion is laps; she loves to sit in them. As a young dog, she would walk up to you and put one leg on your thigh. She would look away, as if to say "Nothing to see here, just resting my leg on yours". If she received no rebuke, the second leg would be propped up, "Just resting my front legs, taking a chill." Then the trap was sprung as she would suddenly LEAP into your lap, at first content to rest her head on your shoulder, though gradually trying to get an angle to lick you on the face. Ellie, being an outdoor dog, isn't the best smelling thing in the world, so I'm not sure how many laps she gets to sit in anymore.
There's only a handful of animals that I really have strong memories of; a cat named Smoke, a fish named Arnold, a dog named Mitzy, and Ellie Mae. Ellie has lived longer than any, and in going back home to visit family, seeing Ellie Mae is just one of those expected things. Pets are as mortal as people; they face the same risks we face and often succumb to the same diseases. Despite the recent realization that her time might be running out, the thought of Ellie Mae being gone is a tough one for me.
My Mother hasn't been letting Ellie Mae into the house lately, as she's afraid the sore on her stomach is too apt to bleed. It's her decision of course, but I hope she lets her back into the house soon. I really think they both would like that.
I hope I get to see my dog, at least one more time.
We got Ellie Mae in 1995 as a gift for my Father; she was somewhere between 1 and 2 years old, had given birth to a litter of pups, and had subsequently been fixed. We think she's a beagle, though in true country parlance, we refer to her as a "beagle hound".
At first the vet thought, at the age of 14, Ellie Mae would be too old to try and cut the tumor out, but upon a check of her heart, he says it's worth a go. The tumor is in her belly, and if she comes through the anesthesia and the tumor is self-contained, she might end up being fine. The tumor has only showed as a patch of missing fur; my mother says she's as active and prissy as ever! She'll had surgery today.
Ellie has always been what I call a "hunting dog". She's never been used to hunt mind you, but she roams around "Hagler Hill" in what I suppose are quests for adventure, small, furry animals to pester, and to spend time with my Uncle, who she seems to be quite enamored with. She's quite fiery when it comes to her turf; she's barks rather viciously at anyone or any car she doesn't recognize when it comes into our yard (she's pinned a few UPS delivery men in their truck in her day). The amazing thing is that when I drive up, even after all these years of living in Houston, she doesn't bark! It doesn't seem to even matter what car I'm in; I guess she's learned to look inside the car and even though I only see her a few times a year, I suppose she still recognizes me.
When she realizes it's me, she goes crazy because she know she can get in the house whenever she wants; my Mother won't stop her with me there! Though she loves to hunt in the day, she's clearly a house dog at night. My Mother won't let her far in the house; Ellie has a rug just off the kitchen that she has to stay on. She always goes to her rug, gives it a quick smell, and beds down to sleep for ever how long she gets to stay indoors. I'm not sure if she wants to be indoors simply because it's better "weather" than outside, or if she just likes being around us ... who knows what's going on in her doggie brain.
Ellie's secret passion is laps; she loves to sit in them. As a young dog, she would walk up to you and put one leg on your thigh. She would look away, as if to say "Nothing to see here, just resting my leg on yours". If she received no rebuke, the second leg would be propped up, "Just resting my front legs, taking a chill." Then the trap was sprung as she would suddenly LEAP into your lap, at first content to rest her head on your shoulder, though gradually trying to get an angle to lick you on the face. Ellie, being an outdoor dog, isn't the best smelling thing in the world, so I'm not sure how many laps she gets to sit in anymore.
There's only a handful of animals that I really have strong memories of; a cat named Smoke, a fish named Arnold, a dog named Mitzy, and Ellie Mae. Ellie has lived longer than any, and in going back home to visit family, seeing Ellie Mae is just one of those expected things. Pets are as mortal as people; they face the same risks we face and often succumb to the same diseases. Despite the recent realization that her time might be running out, the thought of Ellie Mae being gone is a tough one for me.
My Mother hasn't been letting Ellie Mae into the house lately, as she's afraid the sore on her stomach is too apt to bleed. It's her decision of course, but I hope she lets her back into the house soon. I really think they both would like that.
I hope I get to see my dog, at least one more time.
1 comment:
Awww... :( So sad!! I hate when the pets get sick... very hard on people!
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