For pet names beginning with "E".

Egg, April 1, 1998 - August 2, 2016

To our little darling Uggah, affectionately known as Bug, Boo, Bear, Princess, and, some time ago, half of the Little & Large duo, you left us this week not after a long illness, but because you could no longer enjoy food the way you always had. We petted and played with you pretty much until the time you left and joined Mr. Pants in the Great Kitty Palace of the beyond. We hope he's behaving himself & treating you like the perfect soul that you are, and we hope that there are plenty of soft mats, sunny spots & blankets to burrow in. Mom and I miss you more than you could ever know (Mom really misses chatting with you, too). You brought us so much happiness and we will always miss you so, so much, but we know we'll always carry your sweet, fuzzy spirit inside of us, forevermore. Please come visit us in spirit or creature form anytime you'd like. We love you, Bear.

Ella, 08/29/2002 - 02/15/2016

I took my best friend Ella home from a breeder's house on November 21, 2002. She was about 8 weeks old at the time, born on August 29, 2002 (in Pasco, WA). I fell in love with her the first time I saw her. She was the runt of the litter (2 brothers- both of whom were a lot bigger than her, and one sister who had died at birth). I was 18 at the time. I had just started college and she was my first dog (our family had other dogs, but she was the first one that was mine). My friends would come to the house just to see her, they thought she was so cute too. We had a hard time potty training, but we got the hang of it eventually. Ella loved to play with her eagle stuffed toy, and race around the house chasing my brother. I used to hide under the blanket and she would dig at the blanket trying to free me for about 20 minutes straight.

I went off to college at the University of Washington in September of 2004, so I reluctantly left Ella with my mom back home. I thought about her every day. When I came home to visit, Ella would get go excited and jump all over me. When I graduated, I moved back home with my dad and Ella came to his house and lived with me. My dad bonded with her quickly. They took walks around the neighborhood together and Ella would go non- stop the whole 2-3 miles. She was a little machine racing forward on those walks. In 2007, Ella got heat stroke and nearly died. The vets at the emergency vet were able to save her, thankfully. She didn't have any lasting effects from it.

I went through nursing school and graduated in 2009. Ella and I moved to the Seattle area for my first nursing job. It has just been the two of us for the last 6 and 1/2 years. I got used to the way Ella would sleep on my head, with her butt on top of my head and her face and front legs on the arm of the couch (we slept on the couch). I loved the way she would sit on the bath mat and wait for me while I showered. I loved the way she wouldn't let me leave a room without coming with me, even when I went to the bathroom. I loved the way she used to take one of her toys and put it in front of her. Then bow her head down with her butt in the air, and slap her front paws on the ground as if to say, "Come on! Try and get it!" We played Tug-o-War a lot with her Frozen toy (the snowman from the movie, not sure what his name is). We took walks in our neighborhood and people used to smile at her, little kids wanted to pet her, and people would constantly say how cute she was. The only negative thing about her was that she didn't get along with other dogs as she got older. But this wasn't a problem, because I just didn't let her around them (if I could help it). Around 2007 or 2008, she had an epic fight with my uncle's Chihuahua at Christmas. They went airborne in front of the fire place... and if they'd been bigger dogs, they would have hurt each other! My family still laughs about that today. Ella and I took road trips together to go back home and see my family, which she loved. We took a beach trip to southern California in the late summer of 2014 and 2015, driving the whole way from Seattle. She was my little road trip buddy and she always did great in the car. I never had to sedate her or anything.

I loved the way she used to burrow in my blankets on the couch. I loved the way she used to snort and nod her head at the same time. I loved the way she got so excited when we went to the vet- she was never afraid at the vet. I loved the way she used to push the bathroom door open with her face, and then stand in front of it just before I'd open it, ready to race out the door as soon as it opened (especially if I had just given her a bath!). This may sound strange, but I loved the way she smelled. She didn't smell like a dog, she smelled like... Ella. It was just her scent. Her head reminded me of the way a baby's head smells. Her fur was so soft too.

When she got a little older, she couldn't walk out in the sun for more than 10-15 minutes, so I got her a stroller. She got used to the stroller pretty quickly, and she liked to take walks in the stroller in her last year of life.

At the end of October 2015, I noticed Ella was breathing faster than normal. By early November, it was happening frequently enough that I decided to take her to the vet. We initially thought it was heart failure, and she responded to medication. I was so glad we were But about 2 months later, in early January, she stopped responding. We discovered it was not heart failure, so we went to an Internal Medicine vet specialist. We tried 4-5 other medications, still trying to find a diagnosis. By the beginning of February, I was starting to realize Ella may not actually come through this. This old very well kill her. The vet had one more option for treatment, and she advised me that if Ella didn't respond to this last medication regimen, I'd probably have to euthanize her. I hadn't lost hope yet, but I was forced to face reality.

I would look at Ella, breathing fast and shaking, and she'd be looking at me like, "Mommy, help me." And I couldn't. I felt so helpless and sad. I'd pet her and pick her up and carry her outside to go to the bathroom. I'd take her on walks in the stroller and try to get her some fresh air. I tried to make things as easy for her as possible. Her appetite had decreased since she got sick, and for some time I had to resort to feeding her ground beef or chicken by hand. She wouldn't take anything else.

On February 11th, I was at home, and I looked at her and started to cry. I had come to terms with the fact that she wasn't going to get better. At best, I thought, I might be able to get some medication to help her symptoms, but I didn't expect anything to fix the problem. I just wanted to make her more comfortable. My goal was to have her live at least through the first part of April, because I was going home to see my parents at that time, and I wanted them to be able to see her one last time to say goodbye. Deep down, I knew this was a long shot.

On the night of February 14th, after getting home from work, I had decided to take Ella to the vet the next day to see if there was any type of medication that could just slow her breathing down and make her more comfortable... knowing that whatever they gave me wouldn't fix whatever was wrong with her. I didn't want to see her suffer. In the middle of the night, she was breathing faster and faster, getting more restless. I decided to take her in to the ER vet. I knew full well that there was a good chance I may not be coming home with her when we got done.

I had the option of hospitalizing her for 5-7 days, paying over $5,000, with no guarantee they'd be able to pinpoint what was wrong with her and fix it. My only other option was euthanasia. I chose euthanasia, because I didn't have the money and I knew she'd hate being stuck in the hospital away from me.

I held her in my arms with the vet sitting next to me. I wanted to tell Ella everything I could think of- how much love she gave me, how much I would miss her, how sorry I was that we couldn't find out what was wrong with her, how sad it made me that she had suffered, how I didn't want to let her go, how I'd never be the same without her... but, in that moment, I couldn't think of any of that. All I could say was, "I love you." over and over, kiss her little head and told her tight to my chest. Her breathing had become worse (she had been in an oxygen cage since we got there, and the vet had taken her out so I could hold her during the euthanasia). So I told the vet to go ahead and give her the sedative. I couldn't bear to hear her struggle anymore, as much as I didn't want her to die.

I held her in my arms and buried my face into her fur as I felt her little heart beat its last beats. She passed at 2:20AM on February 15th. I held her for another 10 minutes, feeling her soft fur under my face. I had the vet take 1 picture of us. I wanted to hold her forever, even though she was gone, I didn't want to let go. I prayed and asked God to take Ella to Heaven, to wait for me there.

Now, 3 days later, I am here in my house... alone. I haven't yet been able to take her cans of food to a shelter to donate, I haven't yet been able to box up her toys and beds. I haven't yet even been able to throw away her medications. I've cried more times than I can remember. I've buried my face in my pillow and screamed to release my pain. But it's still there. I can only hope it will lessen with time. Fellow pet lovers have told me it will. I've tried to tell myself that the way she died actually was probably the best it could have been. She didn't die in a traumatic accident, she didn't die young, she didn't die alone while I was away from her at work, she didn't die unexpectedly, she didn't run off and get lost forever making me wonder what happened to her, she didn't die in pain (as far as we could tell). But it still hurts.

I will definitely get another dog, most likely another Pug. But no other animal, or human for that manner, will ever take her place.

Ella, I hope you knew I loved you more than I loved any other animal in the world. You brought me so much joy and happiness in the last 13 and 1/2 years, happiness that I would never trade for anything. I wish I could have you back, even if for only 30 seconds, to hold you and kiss you and tell you one more time how much I love you. I will miss looking into your big Puggy eyes, kissing your little squishy nose, petting your soft head. I am so sorry you suffered, and I want you to know we were trying to fix what was wrong. We were trying so hard. I would like to think that the way I loved you was at least close to the way a mother loves her child. Mom, dad, and Schyler all miss you too. They loved you a lot, and you meant a lot to them. I hope you're at peace now, pain-free, breathing with ease, running around in a grassy meadow with tons of doggie and kitty friends. I hope with all my heart that I will see you again. That will be the best thing about going to Heaven. I love you, my little baby girl.

*To the vets that tried so hard to help my Ella: Dr. Fry, Dr. McClellan, Dr. Peterson, Dr. Coil. I so much appreciate your efforts. Thank you.*

Ellie, 06/22/2005 - 09/13/2016

We lost our sweet Ellie last Tuesday 09/13/2016. She made our home so fun and full of laughter and love in the very short 5 years we had her. We hope she's having fun chasing chipmunks and squirrels and running where ever she wants pain free and happy. We miss her so very much and even though it's been only a week since her passing it feels like its been forever. Ellie was a huge part of our whole family and we can't thank her enough for the joy she brought to us and everyone who was lucky enough to meet her. Till we meet again Ellie bellie.

Ellie, 4/30/2008 - 5/25/2016

My dear sweet Ellie how you were loved for the short time you came to your forever home. It was only a year since you came into our hearts and home. Although you were sick for most of our time together, you spread love throughout our home. I know you are no longer suffering and that is all that provides me with peace. I miss you and will be meeting you at the Rainbow Bridge where we will be together forever. I will always miss you and Love you, My Ellie Girl!

Emmett Johnson, 10/15/2008 - 7/15/16

My sweet Emmett Skimmett... I was there when you came into this world. I loved you from that moment on. You were always one of the best boys I ever knew. Beautiful and sweet. I have no idea what happened to you. You were here one day and gone the next. I didn't get a chance to say goodbye, or hug you one last time. You are with your brother Sterling and Mama Pebbles at the Rainbow Bridge. We'll be together again sweet boy. I love you very much and miss you terribly.

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