I was advised yesterday in a Christmas card that Elvis lost his battle with immune mediated hemolytic anemia on November 28th. Yes, rescue allows me to have all the dogs I ever wanted … they just go live with someone else. Which also means that, eventually, I will lose all of them as well. While our fosters go on to new lives with new families, they never really leave our thoughts. They may have been with us for only a short time but the details of their stay are vivid in the mind’s eye.
Elvis is fondly remembered for his enthusiasm … didn’t matter what was going on, he was a happy, bouncy boy. He was closely connected, always coming back to check-in with me and offer himself up for a good rub down … then off he’d go. One of those dogs that exuded joy through his facial expressions. You just knew he was happy. He’s also the dog that taught 18-month old Frankers how to hike his leg for every pee stop around the yard. At that time, I did not know it could be a learned behavior!
He had the dubious honor of being the first severely matted dog to endure my grooming skills (which wasn’t saying much at that time). I remember feeling completely overwhelmed and definitely lacking in appropriate grooming equipment. Of particular note was his patience with me over a 4-hour grooming session. He could have easily been the “dog from hell” given his coat condition and his undeniably inexperienced groomer. Instead, he willing did everything I asked of him, i.e., stand, sit, move this way, etc., etc.
Godspeed, Elvis … I know your family will greatly miss your gentle heart.