Chapter 2: The Funeral

Three weeks. It's been three fucking weeks. Bandit tried to stop his shaking as he brought the steaming mug up to his muzzle. He felt the warmth of the coffee, but he couldn't taste it. Apparently all that smoke inhalation sticks around for a while. He glanced at the stack of papers on his desk and sighed.

Bandit had known he was older than average to have pups. He and Chilli had been 35 when Bluey was born, which was a good bit older than most of their friends. They'd been trying for almost 6 years before they finally got their first success. About a year after Bluey they'd started trying again, and after losing one at 16 weeks-a girl they'd named Bosco-they'd decided that it had been enough. It hadn't stopped their love life, just their efforts to try and be deliberate about conception. So when Chilli got pregnant with Bingo it was the happiest accident Bandit ever had made.

Both his girls were perfect, and he and Chilli had made plans just in case something imperfect ever happened to them, mainly so that their perfect girls wouldn't end up in dire straits. They hadn't thought it would actually happen, no one ever really expects a sudden death, but they knew their risk was a bit higher than the other parents of kids their age, so it made sense to have life insurance and a few different plans and wills made out.

But now he was sitting in the office of the apartment he was renting with the insurance payout looking at the papers confirming the worst event that had ever happened to him. And to top it off, the cunts make it sound like it isn't even that bad! He'd almost punched one of the funeral directors when the smug looking bulldog had suggested that due to Chilli's 'state at death' Perhaps cremation would be a better option, as she's already most of the way there, anyhow. He scowled at the funeral invites that he'd approved. Well, really it had been Trixie and Stripe who'd approved it. I can't focus on any fucking thing without breaking down into tears. My little brother had to choose the invites because I was too busy sobbing on his couch. Come on Bandit, you've got to get yourself together! After all, it's clear the girls need me.

The girls… God, what am I going to do about the girls? Bandit rubbed his hands across his forehead, trying to stop the headache he knew was coming. Bingo's been catatonic since the fire. Bandit sighed as he thought of the happy and chatty daughter he'd had only a few weeks ago. Now she barely speaks and usually just stares into space absently. When I asked her what she was thinking about she didn't even answer me… He paused, And Bluey isn't much better. She's way more aggressive than I've ever seen her before. Not to mention all her mood swings. I had to pry her off of Muffin last week when she started trying to beat the stuffing out of her, then she started sobbing that she was sorry… He let his head hit the desktop, "God, please let tomorrow go smoothly."

***BCH***

Bandit was wearing a suit for the first time in years. It wouldn't have been nearly as uncomfortable if the occasion had been something different. He was standing in the front of the funeral parlor, the girls beside him in black dresses. He'd wondered if it was a good idea for them both to be there, given their age, but had decided for it-It'll give some closure, better than just pretending nothing happened. He'd explained to the girls the night before on what would happen and how Chilli would be there, but they wouldn't be seeing her, he felt a wave of nausea at the thought of having to identify her body and knew that it wouldn't be a good idea to have held an open casket.

The next hour people arrived, relatives and friends and coworkers all wearing black. Bandit and the kids stood by the door, thanking people for coming. Some of the kids from Bingo and Bluey's classes attended, knowing Mrs. Heeler, and a few gave cards or drawings to the girls. However it wasn't until five minutes until the readings were scheduled that someone Bandit dreaded arrived.

"Hello Bandit."

"Hello Brandi."

The room suddenly felt much tighter, as if all the air had suddenly been removed. Bluey and Bingo looked at their father, it was clear that this woman knew him and didn't like him, but they didn't know why.

"I knew you were never good enough for my sister, but I thought you'd have the decency to keep her alive at least."

Bandit frowned, wanting to retort with a number of words, but avoiding it as there were children present. "Brandi, can we not fight, please?"

She scoffed, "What, Bandit Heeler all of a sudden grows a conscious? Or is it that you don't want to start things you can't win."

Bandit growled. Brandi huffed and walked to take a seat beside Mort, who'd arrived earlier.

"Mr. Heeler, it's time for your reading." A greyhound whispered into his ear. Bandit nodded and lead the girls to their seats in the first row before walking up beside the casket and standing in front of the small lectern. He pulled a piece of paper out of his suit pocket and unfolded it. He cleared his throat and started.

"Hello everyone, thank you for being here today. This is not something I had ever thought I would have to do, but…" He exhaled, "…I wanted to start by talking about Chilli. She was the love of my life; she was my beacon, my guiding star. She was the most loving woman I'd ever met, and she always saw the good in people." He coughed, his throat tightening as he held the paper tighter. "Chilli was many things to many people, but above all she was a wonderful mother. She had lost her own mother when she was a teenager, and it affected her deeply. She'd always said that she wanted to always be with our girls to give them the same love that her own mother had given her, even in her final years."

At this remark Brandi stood up and walked up the aisle. Bandit paused, unsure of what to do. The funeral director started edging closer to Bandit, but before he could do anything the woman slapped him across the face, a resounding whap echoing through the room. A number of gasps were heard and both Rad and Stripe had started to stand to defend their brother.

"Never talk about my mother again. You know how she felt about you, now you try to use her to gain these people's sympathy by comparing her with my sister?" Brandi spat, "It's your fault Chilli is dead." And with that she spun and marched out of the building, the door slamming behind her.

Bandit felt the sting across his face. He looked down at the words on his paper and at the shocked faces in front of him. Thanks a lot, big guy.

***BCH***

Unfortunately the rest of the day wasn't much smoother. After attempting to finish the wake there was the burial, then the reception. At the reception Muffin had tried to get Bluey to play a game to get her mind off her mother's death-a suggestion Stripe had made-but Bluey blew up and shouted at her little cousin after she'd asked her one too many time to play with her. "Get away from me! Can't you tell you're just an annoying little brat! I don't want to play with you! Leave me alone!" Understandably Muffin broke into tears and Stripe and Trixie had to comfort her. We don't blame Bluey, they'd explained, knowing how the day was inevitably affecting the girls, but it was still difficult for Bandit to see his daughter lashing out at his niece.

Really the only good thing that came of the entire day was when Bandit talked to Honey's father, Marcus. Marcus wasn't as close as some of the other adults in the parent group, but he was well enough respected-mainly because he'd managed to somehow balance having a daughter and getting a PHD at the same time.

"Hey Bandit." He said, holding his wife Daisy's paw as they stood off to the side of the room.

Bandit looked up from his plate. "Oh, hello Marcus, Daisy. Thank you for coming."

Marcus sighed, "Bandit, come on mate."

"Come on what?"

Marcus gestured to Bandit's stiff posture and lack of eye contact. "I know you're hurting right now. And it's clear that your kids are too…"

Bandit raised an eyebrow.

Daisy glared slightly at her husband, "What Marcus means to say is that we understand this is a lot for all of you, and it's okay to admit if you're in need of some help."

Marcus continued his wife's sentiment, "My brother Ted's a therapist." He raised his hands in defense at Bandit's look. "Look, he's been practicing for almost a decade, he does children and adults. Therapy doesn't mean there's something wrong with you; it just means you need some help. Maybe you could try him out?" Marcus handed Bandit a card, "If nothing else, at least talk with him. You're a good guy, Bandit; I wanna make sure you're okay."

Bandit nodded noncommittally and pocketed the card.

***BCH***

They arrived back at the apartment that evening. After a silent dinner and a few hours of television Bandit put the girls in bed. He then plodded down the hall to the office and miserably looked at the quotes to rebuild the house that were littered on his desk.

"Fuck!" He slammed his head on the desk. "Bandit you bastard, why the hell didn't you let her go first?" He choked back a sob as he gripped onto the desktop, his tears dropping onto the grey carpet below.

After almost an hour he calmed himself down and decided to contact one of the builders to do the work. Because I might as well try and do something right, given how I completely fucked up today.

He didn't even bother looking at any of the details, he just punched in the number to get the task done. The phone rang a moment before going to an answering service.

"Uh, hi… I, I'm Bandit Heeler; my insurance company wanted me to call you to talk, talk, about doing work on my house. I'm at 64 Poinciana Street… You can reach me at this number… Bye." He hung up, exhausted. It had been a long day.