Tribute archive: section 14

My wonderful companion, “Elmo”, died on Monday, August 28. I’ve never felt such sadness and sorrow, and the pain I feel is without words. “Elmo” came into my life when he was an adult, as dog years go. I first saw him in the Spring of 2007; he was with a man who owned a shabby mobile home (MH) on property near mine, and he shared life with another, much bigger and more aggressive dog. On rare occasions, my wife and I would see Elmo in the man’s yard, but more often than not he was nowhere to be seen, probably keeping his distance from the larger dog. As the months passed, it became obvious the home-owner was having financial problems; the MH and property were slipping into disrepair, and it wasn’t long before he was evicted from his trailer, the property was foreclosed upon, and all utilities turned off. But he left his two dogs behind, only occasionally showing-up to feed and water them in their small enclosure at the back of his home. Soon, and as time passed, his visits became less and less frequent, and my wife and I took notice. For months at a time he was absent from the property, and as the seasons passed it became clear he had abandoned his dogs, leaving them to die. My wife and I kept in-touch with the Humane Society about these animals, encouraging them to do whatever they could to rescue the dogs. In the meantime, and as the “wheels of justice” turned ever-so-slowly, we fed and watered the dogs. We had to do this separately, as the larger dog would terribly abuse “Elmo” when food and water were brought to them. One of my most vivid memories of “Elmo” was during one of our Wintertime feeding sessions. While my wife lured the bigger dog to one side of the MH, I was able to slide a window open just enough to reach inside to caress Elmo and feed him some ring baloney. He desperately tried to escape through the window and was clawing frantically, trying to crawl into my open arms. Right then and there I knew we’d made a life-long connection with each other, and he stole my heart in that instant. It broke my heart when I had to push him back into the vacant, freezing room where he lived behind a couch to avoid the bigger dog. During the winter of 2007/2008 there was a brutally cold period and the temps plummeted and we feared the dogs would soon freeze to death in their unheated room/enclosure. We finally convinced the Humane Society to act in this emergency to seize the dogs for their own welfare, and “Elmo” and the larger dog were finally taken into protective custody. About a week later, and after the Humane Society had thoroughly checked his physical conditions, I received a call asking me if I wanted to adopt him, since I was his “savior” of sorts. I wasn’t really ready for another dog; we already had a very active Springer Spaniel to raise, but I decided to go see him for the Humane Society’s introductory ‘Meet & Greet’ appointment. We met on a sunny afternoon at the Humane Society’s offices and I was surprised at his condition: he was very thin and he smelled horribly, but he was full of enthusiasm and an obvious ‘love of life’. The Humane Society’s staff told me he wasn’t all that ‘physically affectionate’, but he was simply a dog who loved everyone. He came to me right away and planted a kiss on my hand. I was hooked, and from that moment until he passed away, we were inseparable. After the adoption process the first stop on my way home was at PetSmart where he got a ‘free’ bath; a perk PetSmart offers to adopted shelter dogs. Even after the bath, he was still a bit smelly, so my wife nick-named him, Ol’ Stinkin’ Elmo, owing to a hound’s natural aroma. Elmo’s instinct to smell and investigate was intense, and he could not be trusted to be off-leash; he would run toward any interesting scent. And it was also apparent he was never trained to respond to commands. On one occasion, I left him tied to a tree in my yard while I was doing something in the house. I checked on him an hour or so later only to discover he’d chewed through his rope and ran away. I spent hours driving the countryside looking for him, only to discover he returned to the vacant MH from where he’d been rescued. I can’t possibly describe the happiness and joy he brought to my home and into my life over the years. His unusual antics and behavior could fill a book, and his distinctive hound bawling drove my wife crazy – but I loved it and encouraged him to bawl as often as he liked. As the years passed he developed a host of illnesses, with tumors being the worst, but he maintained his spirit and his ‘love for everyone’ throughout his entire lifetime. As sick as he was at his passing, he even greeted Dr. Carney with love as she arrived at my home to put him to sleep. Elmo showered happiness, joy and love to everyone who ever met him, and now the silence and emptiness in my home is like the vast voids of outer space since he’s been gone. He truly was ‘one-of-a-kind’, and he’ll forever occupy a huge place in my and my wife’s heart. The phrase, “Pets Leave Paw Prints In Our Hearts”, is so very true when I think of my wonderful friend, “Elmo”.