henry browncoat

Henry is not doing well, and while I hoped it would pass like it did last summer ... things are not looking well. I'm sad beyond belief, because although I knew this day would come, I never fully understood how hard it would be.

In Henry's case, I had tried to start preparing myself well in advance, because Henry has never been a very healthy dog. I told myself over and over again, when the time came I would know. The time seems to be fast approaching, but I don't know.

Seemingly euthanasia for animals is an accepted practice, if not expected. If you don't do it, you're a bad person, making your poor friend suffer. To have him here one minute and gone the next is too much to bare, let alone being the one responsible.

Henry is a dog. A small one at that. Sometimes when I look at him these days I think it was a miracle to have had him as long as we have (six years). Those little patellas holding up that little body, little chest, little set of lungs, little heart. He has been a special part of our family together, D. and I. I think this is making it all the more difficult for us both.

When you're a kid, these things happened. Your parents made the decisions. You trusted them. They knew what they were doing. They knew when and how to handle it, and how to comfort you.

Last night I had a dream about Henry. He was lost and we were trying to find him. We scrambled all over town looking for him, when I remembered his fondness for hiding underneath cars (he really does this, he is from Detroit you know?). I started looking under every parked car near the location we thought we lost him at. Sure enough we found him sleeping in a pile of oak tree leaves. He was hard to spot at first because his coat blends in with the colors of fallen oak tree leaves... brown and rust.