Farewell Ellie McPelly Belly: a tribute to a little black and white dog

You were the biggest puppy in our first litter  and you were (as far as we know) the last one standing. You were always good natured except when fighting with your sister over the meerkat dolly purchased from Melbourne Zoo. When you wagged your tail, it hit both sides of your not-inconsiderable girth.  As soon as you saw the dog-lead , you would begin yipping with joy, especially when I was trying to smuggle you out for a walk without taking your mother, brother and sister as well.

 

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Born in 1999, we could always tell you apart by the small dot on your back

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What a little sweetie. With your brothers Axel and Franklin No-Name 1999

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You loved finding hidey-holes

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Serves you right. One of your less endearing habits was to ‘find’ things in the bathroom rubbish bin and hide them in your outside basket treasure trove.

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You were always a well-built girl

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You even tolerated the cat. Or was it that she tolerated you?

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You’re getting old.

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Ellie Mac, Ellie Mac last Christmas 2015

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Her last night. Goodbye little girl.

You always loved your food. You invariably knew when it was 5.30 and would jump annoyingly at us until we fed you.  You would sit in your too-small basket, waiting to be told ‘okay’ before hoovering up your dinner within seconds.  You were well known for eating a kilo of frozen chicken fillets and having to lie exhausted, stuffed and shivering with your belly ice-cold and distended, until you digested it.  You survived a Christmas packet of Celebrations chocolates which you hid all around the house for later snacks. In fact, anything special went into your little wicker treasure-trove on the back porch: tissues, dog food cans, bones and lolly wrappers.

Eventually it was just you and the cat. By now aged 17, you were blind and deaf but still managed to negotiate the house, the stairs and the garden- as long as nothing was shifted. But it’s been too long since your tail wagged and once you stopped eating – always your greatest pleasure- it was time to go.  Goodbye Ellie McPelly Belly, my little love. I never did finish the last line of your song, sung to the Postman Pat theme-song, while waltzing around the kitchen with you in my arms.

Ellie Mac, Ellie Mac

Ellie Mac is white and black.

You’ve got a big fat tummy

And you love your mummy

Perhaps the last line should be

And I loved you very, very much

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9 responses to “Farewell Ellie McPelly Belly: a tribute to a little black and white dog

  1. Farewell to a cherished friend…

  2. Oh Janine, you made me cry! Bye Ellie Mac.

  3. A life lived well, comes to mind. With the sadness of saying goodbye to a pet who has spent their whole life with you, there also comes a sense of relief, well for me anyway.

  4. Lovely tribute to a loved pet Janine. You have me in tears. We so miss our Jedda who only made it to 14 1/2. I felt cheated.

    • residentjudge

      Yes, you had Jedda for a long time- I remember her. Although, I must admit that the last couple of years were difficult for her once she could no longer see or hear. She really missed the other dogs, too, once she was the last one left.

      • We have a friend with a dog in that situation – can’t see or hear. I guess Jedda was lucky in that sense. Her hearing and sight weren’t top notch but she could hear and wasn’t running into things. And we were lucky too that she just died – congestive heart failure though the signs didn’t suggest she was that close to the end. Hmm. what you little Elly felt is how a lot of old people feel as their friends start dying, isn’t it.

  5. What a beautiful tribute. Ellie had a wonderful life – I hope my pup, Paddy, has a similarly happy life.

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