When I’m upset, I often go up into the mountains to work things through. 
Climbing the steep trails gives me a sense of peace, a sense of clarity. This week, however, was different. After losing Elbee, I found solace in the support of family, friends and countless people who had interacted with him at work. There was an outpouring of love. There was also a sharing of Elbee memories that made me happy and sad at the same time.
A therapist at UCLA commented that “he did things that none of us can do.” A friend who had seen him working in the ICU was amazed by his “understanding.” With tears in her eyes, a nurse said that she would miss the special moments when Elbee would come directly over to her as if to say hello.
Unfortunately, Gus and Stanley can’t share stories or express their feelings but it’s obvious that they’re both grieving. There are no games of tug or races around the yard.
The house is strangely quiet without Elbee. It’s not that the other two don’t bark, but Elbee was like the bark leader. He always had a lot to say. Gus and Stanley are moping around without him. They miss his voice and his presence.
Stanley is taking it particularly hard. He seems lost. Elbee, in a dog way, was his mentor. He taught him to heel and to do a perfect stay. He would tolerate the puppy behavior as Stanley pulled him around by his ear.
When I took Stanley to the groomer this week, everyone there said that they could feel his sadness. It was like an aura around him. We decided that taking him to the hospitals might help. He’d get lots of attention and would be distracted.
At UCLA most of the people we interact with were aware of what had happened. They were saddened by the loss but they’d had some time to process it. They were kind and caring. They showered Stanley with affection.
Going into Providence Tarzana was more difficult because many on the staff hadn’t heard about Elbee. They were learning about it from me. Several burst into tears. I was on the verge of losing it myself. Focusing on Stanley gave me room to breathe.
One of the other things that touched me this week was how many people were fans of the Elbee of my blog and how funny they thought he was. They didn’t want his voice to disappear. I suddenly asked myself, “Is it any stranger to hear him talking to me from above rather than from the couch in my office?” The oldest daughter does not need to answer that question.
Earlier in this post I was about to write that the past several days felt like an emotional cocktail. I immediately thought “Oh, Elbee would have had a field day with that one.” I promise he’ll be back when the time is right.
