2/14/2005 – 1/27/2018
Fritz was a dog made for all the seasons of the year, and a best friend made for every season of life. He thrived in the summertime, beating the Bakersfield heat with trips to the swimming pool. He’d make the journey up to the mountains with his family, run circles around the neighborhood block, and bask outside in the sun. Fritz, always keenly aware of the world around him, understood what summer meant. It was the joyful, family time we were all able to appreciate together: calm, relaxing, and with the occasional leftover slice of pizza.
Summer would always change to fall, and that meant Fritz would lose his companions for most of the day to school and work. Still, he’d wait patiently (sometimes less patiently if there was food in the kitchen) for my brothers and I to make it home from class, and my parents from work. He was ready to show his family love after a long day, and to sprawl out on me on the couch as we decompressed with some TV. Fritz knew that it was that time together every night we all waited for, and he let us know he waited for it too. Winter was fireplace and sock-gathering season for Fritz.
If he had “me-time,” this was it. He’d lay with the fire to his right, a mass of socks to his left, and a blanket draped over him for hours. And yet, he would always find time from his cozy hibernation to greet my brother and I in a mad dash when we came home from college for the holidays. He was the first friend I’d see when I’d come home from the pressures of college life, and the first friend I’d miss whenever I left again. A few weeks would pass by, and we’d have to part ways again.
All the same, our time with Fritz was too short, and the last time I said goodbye when my winter at home came to a close was the last time I got to say goodbye to Fritz at all. When spring came every year, so did the warm constant of California weather and the chirping birds outside that kept Fritz pacing in the house day after day. I spent my last few springs apart from Fritz, but we always knew that spring meant summer was near, and our family would be together again. Since we lost Fritz, we’ve entered a new period of spring. While we miss him dearly, I know he’s somewhere chasing birds, passing the time while he waits for summer. And when summer comes, Fritz and his family will be together again.