Elwood, a very good boy.

23 April 2004 - 28 February 2021

“Every boy should have two things: a dog and a mother who lets him have one”― Robert Benchley

It was these words, written in a humane society book next to a picture of Kramer, the Jack Russell Terrior of my kids’ grandma, Granny Janny, that finally won me over. After years of begging and cajoling, we were getting a family dog. That would have been about 17 years ago, now, when we started a quest to find a pooch who, unbeknownst to us, would be my best friend for a third of my life.

Little Elwood T Dogg. My little buddy. He was born on April 23rd 2004 and he moved into our home in Wichita in June of that year. That was, without a doubt, the best $300 I have ever spent.

Elwood was very homesick when we first got him. He was also just so tender-hearted. I think he really missed his mama and at first he lost weight and I was so worried. He was so tiny, with such a big head, that in his first week he tipped over into the pool and I had to dive in, in my suit, to save him. He was never a fan of the water after that.

Within his first month, he ate an entire rawhide bone in one gulp under Rick’s watchful eye and, a vet bill and x-ray later, Rick pronounced that Elwood had been “totalled” as his repairs had exceeded his purchase price by over 200%.

But soon enough, he settled in, realising I was his mama for life. He loved the sunlight, always finding a sliver of it through the windows and making that his spot until it passed. He hated Wilbur, our cat that liked to swat him for no reason, when he was basking in the sun.

Elwood and I had so many adventures together. He was my little mountain dog after we moved to Colorado and he, like the rest of us, loved exploring the mountains. He and his brother, Owen, each had hiking vests and they were just so proud to pack up their snacks and hit the trail. And, while he was never particularly excited about the snow, he did love a good sweater vest, and was a good sport about whatever outfits I put on him.

Then Rick died and we were all so devastated that we didn’t even realise it was Elwood’s fifth birthday that day. Rick had always talked about how unlike the bloodhound who could track, or the St Bernard who could rescue you from an avalanche, Elwood’s special skill was worrying about my feelings. And it was true. I have never met anyone who really “got” me and how I was feeling like my little Elwood. We grieved Rick’s death together and I can’t imagine how I would have managed without him there, literally by my side, just snuggling with me and licking away my tears. He knew exactly how I felt. That was his gift to me.

When I contemplated moving to Australia, my first consideration was whether or not my dogs could come here. I knew AU was picky about those things and I was not going to make the move unless we could be together. I figured out the quarantine rules and planned my move around that schedule. Laken and I arrived one month before Elwood and Owen, so we could get the house ready for their arrival. The day we picked them up from the quarantine station was such a relief. Mountain Dog was off on his next adventure – riding a train in Melbourne!

Then I met Miles who passed Elwood’s sniff test. Elwood was a very good judge of character and so I knew Miles was a keeper. He and Elwood were fast friends. Sometimes it seemed that Elwood preferred Miles to me. I think it was a male bonding thing. It still annoyed me, all the same.

Owen died unexpectedly, Mr Jones came into our lives, and Elwood was there to show him the ropes. He was a bit of a Yoda, old and wise.

In the past few years, Elwood’s health deteriorated, impacting his hearing, his vision, his kidneys and his balance. He went from being tiny to being frail. Elwood attended zoom meetings with me from time to time and would still circle like a shark whether human food was nearby, but spent most of his time sleeping in his basket, just a few feet away from my desk.

As the years went on, Miles was a bit of an Elwood whisperer, seeming to know what he wanted and needed when I couldn’t figure it out. He always made the best breakfasts for Elwood and could get him to settled down when he seemed distressed. In Elwood’s last months, Miles was the man who would hand feed little Elwood, when he was just too tired to eat on his own. Elwood was my best friend, but I suspect Miles was his.

Elwood has been sick for far too long, as I suppose might be expected of a dog who was almost 17 years old. I was just not able to make the hard decisions. I just loved him too much to be able to let go. And the pandemic blessed me with a year of working from home where I spent almost every moment of every day with Elwood, making it possible to put off those decisions just a bit longer. So many people I have spoken with over the past year have had a conversation interrupted with “Just a minute, I think I need to take my dog out for a potty,” that they all must know I am a crazy dog lady.

Just as we sat down for lunch, today, I saw Elwood lying in his favourite coat, in the grass. I went over to check on him and he was gone. He had passed away in a little slice of sun.

I am so incredibly sad that I didn’t get to tell him goodbye, to remind him one more time that he was a good boy, to thank him for being my best friend. But I am thankful that he did it in his own time and on his own terms. He knew I needed that. That was his last gift for me.

Rest In Peace, Little Buddy. I miss you like crazy already.