WHAT did you get?!”
That was my dad’s initial response when we brought Heidi home — a one year old abused and neglected German shorthaired puppy from the shelter. I was five at the time, and I remember that she rode in the backseat with me. It was love at first sight.
All through my childhood, I loved that dog. We’d spend hours playing together. She wasn’t the smartest dog there ever was, as she only knew how to sit and would lay down only when she felt like it. But she provided us with lots of love and companionship throughout her life.
We got another puppy when Heidi was 10, in December of 2001. He was a Heinz 57, with very distinct markings and a spiffy personality to boot. Heidi was a very good “mother” to him after he came home. She had no milk for him, as she’d been spayed many years ago, but did allow him to suckle, if only for the comfort. It was a pure Kodak moment the first time they met.
But age was catching up to Heidi. She was slower to get up, and stumbled on walks with Scooter. She tolerated his rough play less and less, until he finally realized he could no longer roughhouse with her and was content to take naps in the sun by her side. Then on a September morning, I knew the pain was greater than the joy of life, and I called my parents. My attempt to go to school that day ended in disaster when one of my peers rudely remarked, “That’s all you’re upset about? It’s just a dog!”
But she passed quickly and painlessly, and is buried in an apple orchard on the farm of a friend of the family. Scooter will soon be three this coming October, but I have no doubt that he still wonders about her, in the corner of his mind. I know I do. I will never, ever forget you.
Much love,
| Heidi |
| 24, Sep 2002 |
| Katie |