Dear Schnib Dibley

Two times I peeked outside and called your name. While inside sitting with your flesh-skinned rival, I heard your name, better yet a version of you name said in question mark form. "Dwiblee?" Havyn said while looking for you.

Recently Havyn had become your biggest fan. You, being her second, third and fourth words mumbled from her mouth. "Dog, doggy, dwiblee." Saying she loved playing with you would be an understatement. Most of her belly laughs erupted from something you did. When Havyn learned to throw, you were there to bring the ping pong ball back. Which, by the way, worked out quite well for you when she was in her high chair hurling her snacks. When she learned to tug, you were there to tug back. And, when she learned to crawl you were there to give her something to crawl to.

"Dwiblee," she said again. I peeked outside. "Dibley," I yelled, "Here girl." nothing.

Nobody could greet like you. Guests to the house knew it. Ty and I knew it. And every time we walked through the door we felt it. As I came in through the garage I could hear your claws click clacking across the wood floors. When I was with you and those very familiar, indicating arrival sounds began you would rush to the door and wait for Ty's priority Dibley embrace. You know she always did hug you first.

When I heard your howl, I darted out the door. You looked my way and immediately stopped howling. I scooped you in a swoop and cradled you close. I didn't care to listen to the lady apologizing. I had but one single thought. I can’t lose you. We can't lose you. Havyn can't lose you. I hurried you inside and got ready to jet you off to the vet hoping for good news. But it was the opposite.

When we found out Ty was pregnant we were worried. "How's Dibley going to act around the baby?" we thought in a worst-case scenario way. But there was no need for that. You behaved around Havyn in a best-case scenario way. You were slow and soft and calm. Everyone who's met you can attest to your manic, nonstop, adrenaline-rush like state. But Havyn would argue otherwise. Even after her less-then-soft ear tugs you acted like a saint, even turning the other ear. When she cried in her crib you came to get me. When she cried around you, you got closer. You seemed more happy when she was and visa-versa.

But now you’re gone and the floors don't clack. You don't come when your name is said even if it is a soft and awkward Dwiblee. We miss you Dibley. We miss your greetings. We miss your middle-of-the-night, let-me-outside pee-pee yelps. We miss your snarled belly and globed and knotted ears. We miss your frantic, play-fetch-with-me stare. And, we miss your smell, no matter the length of time in between baths. And most importantly we miss you.