In Memory of my Beautiful Elsa

beautifulelsaOne year ago, my lovely little Jack Russell, Elsa, who was six, passed away from a malignant tumor. One week she was the same playful dog she always was; the next week she had died in my arms. Words cannot begin to express how much I miss her.

I chose her from a litter of five and the truth was that I had originally been most interested in picking a male, rather than a female. But my father passed her to me, casually asking me what I thought of her. She was so tiny that she fit into my palm. I held her up close to my face and peered into her eyes in a rather skeptical manner; she then proceeded to lick my nose and I thought, this is the one! The rest is history.

Elsa was extremely beautiful for a Jack Russel (I often thought she resembled Audrey Hepburn, though the wide-eyed looks that followed whenever I mentioned this hinted that no one else agreed with me). She was also incredibly playful, fiercely brave, rather rude to other dogs (she would often stick her nose up at them whenever they came sniffing around) and highly sensitive (she ignored me for a good few hours once when I had stayed out overnight.) All in all, she had the vivacious, independent character of her kind, and more. So on the day we found out that this small lump in her neck was actually a vicious tumor and would slowly kill her, we had no choice but to put her to sleep. Within the space of a week, the lump had increased in size, equal to the weight of her head and the vet informed us that if she continued to live until the end, the tumor would eat into her neck and choke her to death.

So we planned the best death for her that any dog could possibly have. The day before she died, I asked the vet to give her an injection that would provide her with energy for a few hours, for she was so lethargic at that point that she could barely move. He obliged and those last few precious hours were spent with us running and chasing each other in the park, as we had done so many times before. For a brief blissful moment, I could imagine that there was no tumor, that she was not going to die and that she was the same happy, healthy dog she always had been. We bought her a delicious steak that she greatly enjoyed and, that night, I cuddled her and told her many things.

The next morning we took her to the vet, that final hurdle before we had to say goodbye. I wanted her to know that I was going to be with her until the very end. They muzzled her, but she didn’t resist. I think she knew it was time for her to go. I held her in my arms, caressed her and kept telling her what a good girl she was; they injected her with a lethal substance and she slid gently down on the table. And I cradled her with a grief that seemed too powerful to bear.

We had Elsa cremated and she now sits in a plant pot on my window sill. I will never forget my little dog for she brought a joy to me that I had never experienced before. There is no doubt in my mind that she is up there somewhere, wagging her tail, being snooty to the other dogs that have passed away and waiting for me to see her again. I had written a poem for her the day before she departed, which is below. God sometimes takes away the ones we love the most but this is not to be cruel or unkind; it is because he knows, as so many of us do, that there is a better place that we go to after life, where sickness, suffering and sorrow do not exist. It is here that my dog waits for me and where all those who have passed wait patiently for those who are left behind. This promise is made to us because such overwhelming love never exists in vain and even death cannot break it; he can only stall it. There is no such thing as goodbye; just goodbye for now.

My beautiful little Elsa

Time to sleep

Death has chosen to slyly creep

And take what doesn’t belong to him

And sprinkle the grief that Pain must bring

This cruel mist and blinding fog

Will soon take the life of my little dog.

So we will have one last perfect day

Without suffering or sadness or the thought of decay

Where Elsa will play and run and be glad

These last hours are not a time to be sad

But to remember how special and loved she is

A beautiful dog who will be greatly missed,

And though untimely for she did not hit seven,

They say all dogs go to Heaven,

And though Time was not with us from the start

Time will mend the cracks of my broken heart

Time will do his best to ease this pain

Time is the reassurance I will see her again.

Goodbye Elsa, soon you will be all brand new

For God has promised me he will look after you

For now I’ve got to stay and you must go through this door

But one day I’ll walk through and join you once more.

And no matter how long it is we are apart

You’ll always be number one

And hold a special place in my heart.

 

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About skyespitfire

I tend to describe myself in several different ways when asked: 1) A tiger in the Chinese Zodiac. 2) A tornado that sweeps through people's lives. 3) A fed-up misanthropist who ironically has oodles of compassion for her fellow man. Aside from that, I am also 27 years old and based in London, England.

Posted on June 17, 2012, in death, Life, loss, pet loss, pets and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 10 Comments.

  1. This is beautiful. The pain of not being there for her in her final moments cuts deeper than the sharpest blade.
    I lack a lot of faith, but the only comfort I can find with this is the thought of her in a much happier place. Elsa is pure, and such a soul deserves nothing less than eternal happiness,

  2. Thanks for dropping by my blog. That is a beautiful poem! I wish I could write like you.

    Yes, one day when we leave this world to reunite with our Maker, you will meet Elsa, and I will see my Sugar again.

  3. Thank you very much. I am sure that they are both up there (perhaps even playing together!) and just waiting for us. 😀

  4. Lovely and moving article about a beautiful and well loved little dog. Isn’t it a comfort to know that love TRULY is eternal? Thanks.

  5. Thanks Margaret 🙂 And yes; I think that no matter what horrors we face, we can find happiness in the fact that there isn’t anything that could tarnish such pure love.

  6. That’s so sweet, I am sure you do miss her so much.

    We had a poodle when I was growing up, and he died when I was at university at the ripe old age of 18. I really missed him for ages.

  7. Hi Poddys, thanks for dropping by. I’m sorry about your poodle; it’s nice he had a good long life. If each dog year is equal to seven, that would have made him 126 years old! 🙂 Dogs really are a big part of the family.

  8. As I read this post, it resonated, deeper and deeper with each passing line. I had to give up my two Staffordshire Bull Terriers last year, as one went, the other gave up on life, there was no longer any purpose for him to carry on. Dogs are uncomplicated, give unconditionally and loyalty is part of the DNA. Humans by comparison, are shallow beings. I am sorry for your loss, I know the ache inside, and its damn painful.

  9. Thank you Andy; I’m very sorry for your loss too. It must have been heartbreaking to lose both of your dogs and one losing the will to live because the other was lost. I know what you mean by their attributes; many of them have finer qualities than most humans! Hence, I tend to prefer the company of dogs. I am sure your grief must have been magnanimous since last year; I hope you find solace in a belief that we will see our beloved pets again. : )

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