Jun 17, 2007 13:39
Our dog, Elijah, is dying. He hasn't moved since Friday morning. I'm really sad, but I've been preparing myself for this moment for a long time. He's lived 13 long years, which is longer than most Pyrenees live, and has had an eventful life.
He's been a good dog. Braver than any other dog I've ever met. I watched him fight off two full-grown rottweilers by himself, I've seen him chase away a pack of coyotes, he's killed a rattlesnake, and he survived getting hit by a car 3 times.
One time when my friend's father came to pick me up from my house, Eli didn't recognize him, and jumped onto the hood of the car to stop him from taking me.
When our dog Harriet killed a kitten, he took the body under a trailer and tried to nurture the kitten back to life. And when Harriet was about to die, he stayed with her in their makeshift doghouse until the very end.
If it hadn't been for Eli, Maggie would probably be dead right now. When she was a puppy, she wondered onto our property. He had her cornered and wouldn't let her go. Unlike most dogs he would corner, he wasn't barking or growling or anything. When we went to go see what was going on we found a tiny little puppy, covered in ticks, and with not much hair left from the mange she had. My dad and I used Eli as leverage to keep Maggie. If he wanted her to stay than so did we.
I don't have a photo on my computer to put up, and it's too late to take one now. But if you want to see him, just picture a giant polar bear. That's what he is.
eli,
death,
life