On Sunday we took an afternoon walk on Cadbury Castle, a place that stirs so many memories for us. Sunday was particularly evocative as it was the first time we had rambled up the iron age fort since our lovely labrador, Ella, passed away.
She had gone quickly and quietly two weeks ago. The previous weekend she had been chasing squirrels in Sefton Park in Liverpool, but only a few days later, she was gone. She never caused a fuss, never made a noise, and was uncomplaining to the end.
Amongst all the dogs that we have had in our family, either with our parents or ourselves, she is the undisputed G.O.A.T. No other canine companion could compare with Ella.
Her arrival eleven years ago was as a surprise birthday gift for Mrs B, after she herself had spotted the labrador x flat coat retriever puppies advertised in the local newspaper. Mrs B said she did not want a new dog (we already had Fudge the Wonder Dog) but the kids were persuasive in hatching a plan for a birthday surprise.
“What have you done?” Mrs B asked, when she first set eyes on the bemused little bundle of bones and black fur in the box, and for a moment, I thought I had made a mistake. But over the succeeding years there has not been a moment when we have regretted welcoming Ella to the family.
She has been loyal and ridiculously well-behaved. The only bad thing we can remember her doing was once – randomly – peeing on the coat of one of Josh’s girlfriends. But even that, in retrospect appears to have been a statement of good taste by Ella, as, some years later, that relationship ended rather acrimoniously. So maybe our dog knew something we didn’t.
Perhaps Ella saw the GF as an intruder and this was her way of getting her to leave, because barking was not something Ella ever did. We can remember only one time that she barked at anyone at the door, mistakenly rushing at the window when some close friends appeared at the back gate. She never barked at post office staff, deliveries or milkmen. She was simply a friend to all.
Well, not all. She was not averse to a bit of hunting and gathering. As a young dog, her acute sense of smell made her a heat seeking missile when it came to hunting rabbits in The Old Man’s garden, with a few alstroemeria or irises as collateral damage. She occasionally managed to bring down pheasants if they were too slow to remember they had wings.
At heart, she was a retriever, and often, when she was younger, she would be there when we came in, with a sock or a slipper in her mouth as some form of gift, looking for approval. Even in her latter years she would sometimes look at Badger, her idiot companion, as he demanded us to play with his toys, and quietly go off to retrieve another of his toys from the box as if to remind us that she, too, deserved some attention.
Her relationship with Mr Long was complex. She was far too easy going to put up with his FOMO and his need to be constantly changing beds, to be with her. She simply got up and went elsewhere to be away from him. He didn’t seem to notice.
But she did interact with the Long Dog – most notably when the pair of them would play fight relentlessly, to the point that Badger would hurtle around the coffee table repeatedly throwing himself at the Big Dog.
And this was Ella: she was the kind of dog that never intentionally hurt anyone (unless you were a rabbit, or a squirrel) and was always there when you needed emotional support or simple company.
You would think that Badger would be missing such a wonderful canine companion. But you would be wrong. And that says far more about the Dachshund than it does about the Lab.
But we miss her, for her happy flagging tail out on walks, her insistence on paddling through every puddle and every stream (but NEVER out of her depth) and the way that she would just lean into you when you stroked her. She understood the importance of bodily contact to soothe and pacify. And she knew a bit about the importance of quietness. The world would be a whole lot better if it was all a bit more Ella in outlook (and perhaps a little less Mr Long).
If, in the words of the movie, all dogs really do go to heaven, then it will be a little quieter and more peaceful for her presence. And I know a few souls that will be welcoming her with open arms.
Midlife Gardener 