Heidi came into my life in 2020, about two years after we’d lost our previous dog.
I’d been following a Cyprus rescue for nearly two years at that point. I kept telling myself I was “just looking” because I wasn’t ready. But when I saw a photo of Heidi sitting in a pound, that was it. No hesitation.
She was about a year old, found on the streets with no real background. I had a phone interview, a home check, and then on my birthday I got the call to say I’d been approved to adopt her.
Best birthday ever.
The Airport Pick-Up I’ll Never Forget
Her flight was arranged through the rescue, which meant a five-hour drive to Manchester Airport on what felt like the coldest day of the year.
We stood waiting while other dogs came through arrivals – wagging tails and excited families.
Heidi was different.
She was carried out because she was so frightened they thought she might bolt. I just remember seeing her long legs sticking up in the air as she was brought over.
I was told to sit in the car, and she was placed straight onto my lap. She was shaking the entire time. We were told not to stop on the way home in case she slipped her collar.
So we drove home like that. Me completely over the moon, and her completely terrified.
The Super Shy Phase
We bonded very quickly. On walks she stuck to my legs like glue. But the world was absolutely terrifying. She could be spooked by a falling leaf.
If she went into the garden, she’d sometimes refuse to come back inside. Almost like she didn’t quite believe she was allowed to live there. And to this day, not a single toilet accident indoors. Even though she’d likely never lived in a house before.
She was quiet, gentle and incredibly well-behaved. Honestly, she was so “perfect” I used to joke that I could have five Heidis. (Spoiler: one is plenty.)
The Day I Nearly Lost Her
About two months in, I made the mistake every new rescue owner dreads.
We met a similar-looking dog and I thought they might play. Instead, she got spooked and ran. I was convinced I’d lost her forever.
But somehow, and I still don’t fully understand how, she made her way home from about two miles away. Soaking wet, but home. It was during lockdown, which meant very little traffic so we were unbelievably lucky.
She’s never been off lead since. And as a scent hound, that’s probably wise. When she sees a hare, she turns into a completely different dog. She once nearly scaled a six-foot fence in a secure field.
Her Fears (And Her Strength)
Heidi was particularly nervous around men at first. It took about six months for her to properly trust my dad (they’re now best friends). She still takes longer to warm up to men than women, but she gets there in her own time .
Not long after she arrived, the vet noticed a lump on her throat. He suspected it could be trauma-related, possibly from being chained earlier in life. She needed surgery to remove it.
And as timing would have it, that surgery happened the day before Pepper arrived.
Life Before and After Pepper
For two years, it was just me and Heidi. Road trips. Beaches. Quiet countryside walks. She was shy, but very manageable.
Then Pepper arrived.
And this is when Heidi found her voice. She started barking – at dogs, at noises, sometimes just because she felt like it. Even when she’s happy now, she barks. When she wants attention? She barks.
Pepper actually makes her braver in some situations. Heidi sometimes refuses to go out without her. Pepper gives her backup and a bit of gangster energy.
But I’d be lying if I said I’ve never felt guilty. Heidi and I used to go everywhere. Now Pepper gets car sick, and managing two reactive dogs isn’t always simple. I avoid new places more than I used to, sometimes I wonder if Heidi’s life would have been easier if it had stayed just the two of us.
The Real Heidi
Despite everything, Heidi is the biggest cuddle monster you’ll ever meet. If I sit down, she’s there. If I lie down, she’s closer. Personal space simply does not exist.
And the beach? That’s her absolute favourite place in the world. The second she smells the sea air, she lights up and zoomies her heart out.
From a frightened airport arrival to a confident, beach-loving hound, she’s come a long way.
She might still be sensitive.
She might bark more than she used to.
She might never be an off-lead dog.
But she is my best friend in the world, and completely, utterly loved.
