Harry S. Dog

The family dog, Harry, died in his sleep last night. He didn’t live with me, but of all the pets I’ve had, he was my favourite. This is because he only knew me as an adult. When I was little, I was not as nice to dogs as I should have been. But with Harry, I gave him attention, I scratched his ears, I took him for real exercise, and I gave him big, honking, cow bones. Dogs are always open to bribery. But even before I started giving him the bones, when I visited, he would go insane with happiness to see me. It is always nice to have someone love you.
I wasn’t responsible for picking him. I had moved away from my family when they got him. On his car ride home, he drooled a huge amount of water. In fact, in any car ride he was a nervous drooler. It took several years for him to calm down. And then he came to love the car rides. Even if he never left the car, he just liked being in it.
He was a rescue, but he had a significant amount of border collie in him. But since he didn’t have sheep to herd, he took to herding the family. He made sure we kept to a schedule: get up now, woof woof woof, eat breakfast, done breakfast so stop socializing and get to work, start making lunch, eat lunch, nap time, go get a drink, make dinner, eat dinner, go watch TV. Once he figured out the routine, he enforced it. When we went for walks, he always checked to make sure no one was straying from the pack. I took him for a run with the Running Room run club, and when I off-leashed him in Hawerlak park, he quietly circled the group.
His great love was tummy rubs. I preferred to scratch ears, but he would always show his belly and look expectedly at you.
He loved the cow bones I brought him, but in his later years he wasn’t as interested in chewing them as showing them off. He would only chew if someone would admire it while he did so. Otherwise, he just spent quality time with them. And would grown if you came to close.
He was my dog, and even though I didn’t see him all the time, he was mine. The family home will be empty without him. Who will tell us what to do now?