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us indoors at the end of the day but, at a command from Tammy to "pick up your junk!" she'd run back and carry her toys indoors. We could swear she understood every word we uttered.
Within a month of getting her, Tammy taught her to play dead. Tammy would point her finger at her, gun fashion, and yell, "Bang!" Honey would roll over on her side and lie still. There was the odd time when her tail would wave. "Dead dogs don't wag," Tammy would admonish her and she'd lie rock-still until Tammy gave her permission to 'live' again.

Around three months after bringing her home, the Humane Society phoned. They were checking on the dog's progress, fearing the worst. They were surprised and gratified to find out how happy Honey was with us and how happy we were with her. I'm sure they'd be scratching their heads if I sent them pictures of her happily co-existing with our other pets which, at one time, included 5 poodles and a ferret.
It took me about a year of walking Honey to realize what drove her to hate other dogs with such venom. It was fear. Despite her size and appearance, Honey was really very timid.
I started carrying dog treats in my pocket on our outings. Every time a dog happened by, I'd hold her to me, calm her down and give her a few treats. The results were miraculous. Within a few weeks, her antipathy for strange dogs was replaced with curiosity. In fact, she actually befriended them. Thanks to this 'therapy', I no longer needed to leash her on our walks. If that weren't enough, she once brought home a stray dog. Yes, Honey really was special.

Pepito and Honey

Honey had another quality that set her apart. She was a truly good-natured. She accepted Tilly, the thoroughbred Poodle, as well as Tilly's pups.
In the Summer of 2007, Pepito entered her life and gave it a new lease. He was an 'import' from Mississippi.
Only two months old when he arrived, Pepito immediately sought out Honey and frolicked with her endlessly. Honey loved him and cheerfully allowed him to nibble her ears, and his tiny body to run up and down her massive frame. It was a touching sight: a lumbering 90-pound dog cavorting with a tiny 1-pound puppy.
Jessica, my younger daughter loved Honey and they'd spend hours together.
Fourteen-year-old Jessica drew pictures of her and pinned them on the wall of Honey's 'apartment' - the landing leading to the basement.
Honey was six years old when she adopted us in 2003, but, within a month, we knew she was living on borrowed time.
She had an extremely sensitive stomach and couldn't eat 'normal' treats like bones, and other popular dog foods without having violent diarrhea attacks. We took every precaution to regulate her diet but she experienced bouts of stomach upsets on a regular basis.
Four years later, we began to notice strange growths on her belly. In addition, her worsening arthritis made walking up and down stairs an increasingly agonizing experience. For selfish reasons, I kept postponing the inevitable. Jessica and I once prayed over her and she improved somewhat but we knew the end was near.
It came December 5, 2007. She went to sleep peacefully and painlessly on the vet's table.
The anguish and heartache we feel is indescribable. We take comfort in the knowledge that when we make it to the mansion our Lord, Jesus Christ, has prepared for us, Honey will be there, waiting to welcome us.
In the meantime, farewell, faithful friend.

Learn more about this author, Peter Pachecos.
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