My friend Wes Joseph's dog died a couple of weeks ago. To console him I told him that legends never die. See, uplifting words are just used as substitutes for anything substantial. This is why when a waitress gets told she did a great job, she will most likely not get a great tip. People think that a nice comment is worth more than money. So do I. So does Wes. It's why I think he is calling my bluff and has now challenged my words of comfort by requesting a blog to tell her story. It's why I am here to prove that I am a better friend to Wes than he is to me. Once and for all, I will overcome 'the Disneyland incident'.
Ellie Mae Johnson, (no not Joseph because the dog kennel, like most people, cannot accept a first name as a last name, and christened her Johnson instead) was born on 4/20/99. Most likely a reincarnation of a Columbine shooter, except this time she came back with a heart that was TOO big, leading to her untimely death of 10/7/08. She is survived by her mother Sophie and her mate Cleo. She enjoyed walking until about a year and a half ago.
Ellie could not only sit, roll over and play dead, but "sitting pretty" was her expertise. She would sit pretty before every treat.
Not a masculine dog, not an intimidating dog, definitely not a hunting dog, but a loved dog nonetheless. There was no other dog more liked by or like his father Wes Joseph.
Legends never die Ellie. I have told your story.