A little over three years ago, my sister and I, in the interest of saving money, went in together on a house.  We figured it was better than renting, and we would be better off financially if one of us left, and one of us could buy the other out, or sell it altogether.  One thing I insisted on was that I wanted a dog.  We had always had one at our parents' house, and I had a number of reasons for wanting one.  I liked the idea of having a "buddy" that I could take wherever I wanted, and there's just something about playing with a dog that is fun...I don't think we as humans give them enough credit for their intelligence.  I also wanted a dog for security, because the presence of a dog, no matter the size, can be a deterrent.

One night my mom said to me "let's go to the Humane Society tomorrow and see what they have."  I was game.  My problem with the Human Society is that I want to take home a lot of dogs, young and older.  I knew exactly what I was looking for prior to going.  I wanted a Lab mix.  Mixed breeds are the best because you usually get a lot of characteristics of other breeds.  Plus I wanted a dog that would get a little bigger.

My sister said she wouldn't be happy if I brought a dog home the next day.  Well, mom and I went, and I walked around the "puppy room" of the Humane Society looking at a couple dogs.  Then I came across a pen with three black furballs in it, with the breed being labeled as "Lab Mix."  Just what I was looking for.  Two of the puppies were all snuggled up to each other, while one waltzed over to me to take a sniff.  The staff told me I could pick it up for a closer look.  It was a female, and there was an immediate connection with this dog.  I started asking questions about the parents, and if they barked, and how they came to be at the Human Society.  Staff informed me they had mom on site.  Curious as to how big I thought this dog would get, I walked out to check out mom.  Not real big, and staff said she was not a barker, according to the previous owners.  Apparently, mom was an apartment dog, and when she had puppies the landlord told the people they had to go, as that was too many dogs for them.

So, I had my little bundle of fur, and to my surprise, I filled out the paperwork and they gave her to me that day.  I took her to the bank my sister worked at to show her off, and my sister was irritated a bit, but soon succumbed to the brown eyes of the puppy.  On the way to my house, my mom and I tried to think of names, and my mom came up with "Ellie." It somehow fit, so Ellie it was.

I got her home and she turned from placid little fuzzball to bounce around the yard insane.  She chewed, dug, and got into whatever she could.  She played so hard and tired herself out, I thought her first night would be a breeze.  I had heard horror stories about puppies on their first night in a new home, but I had hoped this one would be ok...she was confident, and seemed like an all around strong dog.

Boy was I wrong.

My first night gave me very little sleep.  That dog made sounds I didn't think could possibly come from an animal.  She was little, scared, and I could give her no comfort as I was in my bedroom, and she was in a box in the kitchen.  She had an old shirt of mine, and I thought the smell would put her to sleep.  That didn't work.  The finally calmed down as I dragged her box into my room, and once I did that, she was fine.  She still had time adjusting the next few days, but eventually became a pretty good dog.

A little over three years later, she's a whopping 75 pounds, barrel chested, pigeon toed, and looks like a big black beagle.  She drives me crazy on walks because all she does is sniffs the ground.  She's a hunter, but I am not.  She digs out rabbits nests and hates squirrels.  She still likes to bite when she plays.  She's had a lot of health problems, had surgery on both back legs, and borderline pneumonia.  A handful of times I thought I was going to lose her to her health, but each time she bounced back. 

Ellie has been an absolute pain in the neck at times.  But I've learned that all the crazy little things she does that drive me insane are the things I will miss when she's gone.  When she steals my socks as I'm trying to put them on, when she jumps up and takes food right off the counter, and when she makes the kitchen floor an ice rink by spilling her water all over...shredding garbage...I'll miss it all.  She has given me countless stories, and I don't know what I'll do when she's gone, because she's certainly one of a kind.