A few days ago, my friend Sara's wonderful dog Ella died. I haven't had any dogs of my own, and I consider myself lucky to have had Ella in my life. Named for the great jazz singer, Ella the dog was big, happy and furry, plus kind of nutty in that big, happy, furry dog kind of way. Loud noises terrified her and much to her family's frustration, she was always breaking out of the garage and finding her way into the backyards of strangers who instantly fell in love with her friendliness. She would greet visitors to the house by flopping on her back and making sure you rubbed and rubbed and rubbed her belly.
Walking with Ella along West Cliff Drive felt like walking with a celebrity, a world famous comic. People couldn't pass her without breaking out into a grin. I think they were most struck by her tongue which was ridiculously long and bounced along as she walked.
When Ella developed a tumor, the vet didn't give her long to live, but she survived longer than expected, continuing to demand belly rubs almost to the end. I will miss Ella and send condolences to Sara, Rich, Ben, Max and Jesse.
The picture shows Sara with Ella in her favorite position.
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