by 
Heidi-Bitey, for twelve and a half years, you were the most loyal friend and canine companion any guy ever had. I’m not sure what happened to you yesterday, where you went or where you are now, but it’s hard to believe that you won’t be here when I wake up in the morning or be waiting for me when I get home from work at night.
You couldn’t know this, but I was against bringing you home in the first place. We already had two bigger dogs and three boys to deal with and I didn’t want another critter to look after. Of course, you won me over immediately with your cute little furry face and feisty attitude.
You earned your nickname of Heidy Bitey after only a few weeks with us. I was holding you and blowing little puffs of air in your face to make you snap, but you were quicker than I thought and took a nip out of my nose with your sharp little baby teeth. There was blood everywhere! After that you were my dog and you knew it, too.
As a boy I’d always wanted a beagle, but after I got one I knew better. Still, owning a Schnorkie wasn’t on my list of things to do. I used to make fun of your longish ears and tail, both of which are abnormal for a Schnauzer, which is what I thought of you as. For several years your nickname was Bat Dog because of the funny flapping sound your ears would make when you shook your head.
When you grew up you ruled over Coco, our American Eskimo dog, because you were tougher and more fierce than he was. Everywhere you went you were the queen dog, like when you went to Monica’s mom’s house when we went on vacations, etc. Margie said you always whipped the other dogs into line and sat up on the back of her couch waiting for me to come back. I remember how anxious you always were when we took you there because you knew I was going to leave you and how excited you were to see me when we finally came back for you.
You were also a strong little dog for your size and when you were a young girl I would hold treats up waist-height and you could jump up and grab them. Before you came along I would sometimes run with Coco, but he tired after a mile or so. I never took you running on a leash, but I remember taking you to the track a few times and how you’d bark and bark to be let free if I tied you up and how one time you ran around the track for at least three miles, never letting me out of your sight. Another time some doofus kids left their bikes strewn all over the track in front of us and you ran right through them, hopping over and through the obstacles like they were nothing. The kids said, “What a cool dog!” as we ran away and left them.
As great a companion as you were, you were a bad dog according to several criteria. You never learned to stop “doing your business” in the house and sulked when I tried to discourage you. You never minded very well either, although you almost always came to me when I called, once your puppy years were over.
You also smelled bad most of the time, my good girl, because of the heat and the fact that you licked yourself incessantly. This caused most of the hair on your rear end to fall out and earned you a second nickname, that of “stinky, gnawed butt dog”, which was often shortened to “stink dog”. Unfortunately, you never liked to be bathed, even by me, and gave the groomers such a hard time that Monica was embarrassed to take you back there.
Now that you’re gone, that’s one of the things that I regret most. I loved you, Heidi, more than I do most people. But I was not always a good master to you. I should have taken more time to bathe you, especially because I paid more attention to you when you were clean, smelling good, and silky smooth to pet. In fact, the last time I saw you I was reluctant to pick you up because you were smelly and I didn’t want to get my work clothes dirty. That’s why I dropped you off the porch into the grass that day instead of carrying you down the stairs the way I usually did.
You liked living in the country because you had room to roam and new adventures to have. For several years after we moved here you had the run of the property while we were at work and school and you loved it. Unfortunately, this contributed to your smell and hair-loss problem and had to come to an end when your eyesight started to go.
You grew more hair back after we started keeping you inside most of the time, but you slept more and more, perhaps because you were getting old and perhaps because there was nothing else for you to do. Even then I didn’t do enough to keep you clean, nor did the boys, who moped when I asked them to bathe you and ignored you when it was their turn to take care of you. Through it all you were my most loyal friend and you never stopped loving me, even when I failed you.
I remember how you’d run around the house like a possessed creature after a bath, driving your face along the carpet to dry it off and tearing around the house like a wild animal. Even as recently as a few months ago we had a great time chasing each other around the house, even though you could only go in straight lines where there was no furniture.
Your decline was a long time in coming, but it caught me by surprise because you compensated for your lost eyesight so well. But when your hearing went too, it was tough for you to get around, go outside, and do the things you used to do.
Then along came Tucker. A couple of years ago you would have whipped him into shape like you handled Coco, Maggie, and all the others, but as it was, he was too much for you to handle. He was also a sweet, fun dog and I started paying him more and more attention and giving less to you. That’s the thing that plagues me now – how I replaced you with him because he could do things you could no longer do and, to be honest, because he didn’t pee on the floor and constantly need a bath. I should have loved you better, the same way you loved me, and now I’ll never have another chance to make it up to you.
You picked a hell of a time to leave me, good girl. With Mitch going away school tomorrow and Jake heading off next week, a huge part of my life is ending and, even though I didn’t know it, I was counting on you to be here with me to help cushion the blow. I wish you were still here with me, but I suppose I’ll have to make do with my memories.
It seems to me that, of all the things you liked to do, your favorite was to lie quietly beside me in my chair. Whether I was watching television, reading a book, or working on my own stories, you were always there, right beside me, content just to be near me, because that’s the thing you wanted to do most.
One thing I’ll always remember about you is the way you’d jump straight up in the air so I could catch you and carry you around. Later, when you couldn’t jump as high, I’d stick my hand down for you and you’d wrap your paws around my wrist almost like you were hugging my arm while I picked you up.
But the thing I’ll remember most of all is the way you’d spin yourself around to get into the space between my leg and the arm of the chair and, when you finally got into the perfect spot, you’d let out a huge sigh of complete contentment and put your head down on your paws and go to sleep beside me.
I’m going to miss you, little Heidi-Bitey, more than words can say, and anyone who says that you were just a dog has never had a friend like you. Hopefully my fellow Christians are wrong about whether you’ll be waiting for me in the great beyond. I see no reason to doubt that you will be: You were always waiting for me while you were here, so why not there?
