On April 2nd 1999 I was upset
my parents wanted another pet
after the loss of Sheba.
We drove into the county below us and entered Yadkinville. We then arrived at a house with a pool and slide. I got out and walked to the fence to see you; you were the last one left. You walked straight up to me and stuck your nose through the fence; you were so cute. Although I was still grieving Sheba and afraid of your parents that were roaming around, so I got back in the jeep.
You layed in Mama’s lap next to me
on the ride back and I stared out the window.
After time I came to love you. You were so smart. You could sit, lay, stop, give paw, open doors, and always knew
when we were talking about you.
I remember how your first ear began to raise and the other one was down. Daddy told Mama over the phone how we must have got a “retarded dog”. Of course he didn’t mean it, but you looked so sad because you knew he was talking about you.
As a pup you were so dark and cute with that half smile of yours. Later you became a lighter color, but were still cute with that half smile. I remember how April and I would pull you around in our little red wagon and when you got to big we couldn’t anymore. Then one day Mom heard a noise and she went back to our room to see you laying on top of that wagon. As you got bigger you moved from laying in my twin bed to Mom and Dad’s “Bigbed”. Even after your splenectomy in the last few months of your life you thought you were well enough to jump back in bed, but my big baby sister didn’t make it and fell back down.
Of course we provided a bed for you much lower than the bigbed, but it was hard to see you lay there breathing so hard. I cried and was so upset that I was first told you would be fine and then to be told you have hemangiosarcoma. My hopes were so high when my spoiled little baby sister made it through a tough surgery and felt so good afterwards. But then you had a stroke and couldn’t walk. I remember you in that cage at the vet and how you kept trying to raise up and move; you were talking to me and wanted out so bad. After all that you managed to get better and taught yourself to walk again. Then there was another downfall; the tumor that was supposedly a clean cut was cancerous. I denied the fact until I saw you laying there not eating; my Heidi loves to eat. I began to feed you by hand and Mom, Dad, and I would help you out the door to use the bathroom. I just couldn’t and still cannot believe my energetic little sister was this way.
The day my dad decided to put you down was one of, if not, the worst days of my life. I kissed you bunches and left to clinicals. I arrived and my classmates were not there. I called my teacher and realized we were in class that day. I arrived to school to cry and hurt. I then had to go down to the office to be told to go home. I didn’t know what to expect so I called home. Dad said he had to bring you then, but I begged him not to. During third period I went home to be with you. I helped hold up the blanket that you were in and lifted you in the truck. You did that half cute smile of yours only because you thought you were going to the vet to feel better. I knew you thought this because lately the only time you got in the vehicle was to go to the vet. Only this time I looked at your big brown eyes and knew something you did not. When dad pulled out the driveway I sat there. I did not know what to do, so I took the jeep and drove to where I knew you would be.
There you sat in the back of the truck, I leaned over and petted you and air kissed you goodbye. Oh, Heidi I love you so much and at least now your at peace. Although the house sure is empty with out you; my bong-bong, bong, whistle-pig, big baby, big ears on a little pup, cutie-frututie, and of course just Heidi.
Love Always,
| The Buchanan Family-by Amanda |