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Her name was Ellie. Elle Lee. Lee Lee. El for short. She waltzed into my home and into my heart, but all too soon the dance ended and she was gone.
A sleek black and tan Doberman, Ellie had bright opaque brown eyes and a strong right paw she never failed to use to make her point. She perferred the human company of my bed. She stayed with me almost a year and enriched my life far more than I ever deserved.
It was a sweaty August afternoon when I traveled to the end of a dusty country road outside of Casanova and arrived at the Fauquier County SPCA animal shelter. The shelter is a well run, clean ' and efficient operation with an atmosphere that is amazingly calm and collected considering the number of animals the staff handles. El was in the last cage, drop dead beautiful and bored out of her mind. We tiptoed out to the car and, amazingly, she hopped in the back seat without hesitation. Her manner was friendly, if curious, but those eyes gave away nothing—they mirrored my own. Clearly this dog played a mean game of poker.
Ellie came to my house as the heir apparent^ to my older Doberman, Lucy, who suffers from a number of ailments. I wanted a dog “in place” when Lucy died because I knew I would be lost without her. Too quickly I transferred a great deal of love to Ellie, thinking I had a companion for the next ten eyars. El, in return, gave me her love, devotion and friendship. But, all was not quiet on the home front. Lucy and Ellie never resolved the “top dog'’ issue—Lucy
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