Rest well, Miss Ellie
Miss Ellie joined our family more than a dozen years ago, after the Tibetan Terrier Rescue Network called with a candidate for adoption. I had submitted an application late one night after hours of grieving the death of our previous dog, figuring that that breed was rare enough that I’d have a longshot chance at best of finding another; but here was a lady in Colorado insisting that she had a foster Tibetan who’d be perfect for us “She’s a retired show dog, about 3 years old,” Sandy said crisply. “You obviously know how to care for these dogs, so you need to hear just three things about her. First: she’s obese. She’s slimming down now that my vet put her on thyroid, and her babies have all left. Second: she’s de-barked. Read up on the topic, because it’s controversial. But I show dozens of these dogs, and I’ve seen good jobs and bad jobs on the circuit. Hers was done properly.” 
I tried to contain my shock. Cutting a dog’s vocal cords struck me as outrageous if not barbaric. “I know what you must be thinking, we know Tibetans bark all the time. A silent Tibetan sounds like an oxymoron. But here’s the thing: she still barks, only there’s not much sound. It’s more like a wheeze. You’d be amazed how communicative she is.”
As I collected myself, flashing back through memories of noise resounding through the rafters, I decided to ask Sandy about the third thing. “Oh yeah, well, if I didn’t. Well,” she sighed, “if I didn’t have 12 gals of my own right now, I’d keep this one is a heartbeat.”
Three days later, a crate arrived at SeaTac Airport containing a complete set of medical records, family tree and ribbon collection awarded to the beautiful creature we decided to name Miss Ellie. She quickly became the constant companion I never knew I needed. Her patience, affection, and unerring ability to read a room supplanted any reason vocal communication was necessary for her to attract human attention. People naturally gravitated toward her and afforded her primacy of place. Canine interaction never interested her much, but hanging out with friends and family delighter her and kept her alert until her final illness. 
Buddhist tradition holds that Miss Ellie was a holy creature, which could mean a healthier life in a different sphere. I have no doubt she’s earned a spot where she can relax, watch over us and enjoy infinite good health. We were truly blessed to be her guardians while she was here on earth with us. 
