Henry's Tale

            This is Henry.  He's my dog.  He's the BEST DOG EVER.  He's been my buddy for a long time now.  I had been looking for a dog, after losing my Golden Retriever a year or so before.  I visited the pound and the Humane Society, but all they had were little yapper dogs.  Definitely not my bag.  So I went to this weird little rescue near my house.  The rescue was house in an old, one story conch house that was in desperate need of a coat of paint.  It was run by a woman who, I guess, just really loved dogs.  If she couldn't find them a home, she kept them forever.  She had a farm with lots of room, so I guess it was a pretty good deal for the dogs, 

            So anyway, I went to her rescue to see what kinds of dogs she had.  Surprise, surprise...many, many little yappers.  I was really disappointed.  So I went outside and, as I was heading to my car, I noticed this old man sitting in a camp chair under a big Banyan tree.  He had this great looking dog with him.  A real dog.  So I walked over and asked if he was up for adoption.  Turns out he was.  So I bent down to pet him.  He sniffed me a little from his spot on the ground, in the shade of the Banyan.  I didn't rank a kiss, but he did roll over and request some tummy rubbing.  I obliged.  I asked if I could take him for a walk, and the old man said “sure”.  Off we went.  He was happy to come along, even though we weren't going anywhere.  That was it for me.  I took him back to the old man and asked what I needed to do to adopt him.  By the way, his name was Onyx – what a stupid name.  Anyway, I went inside to tell the woman that I wanted to adopt Onyx.  She said I couldn't. ???  What?  Why not?  She said I would have to foster him for a week before I would be allowed to adopt him.  Well, okay.  But why?  Turns out he was a problem child (like I wasn't sold already).  He had been returned 3 times, which is pretty amazing seeing that he was only 11 month old.  The first two times were due to wives not wanting a big, unruly puppy knocking over their little kids (clearly no sense of humor).  The third time he was returned because he was aggressive.  Funny, he didn't seem aggressive to me.  So I asked her what she meant by “aggressive”.  She handed me a sheet of paper on which the previous owner had written his excuse for the dog's return, along with comments by the rescue staff.  

            So here's what happened:  They brought Onyx home, spent a little time with him, then left him in the house while they (Mom, Dad and 3 kids) went out in the backyard to swim in the pool.  They had sliding glass doors that led out to the pool, where Onyx paced and barked at them while they swam.  The poor dog lost his mind.  He is a Bouvier Des Flandres, which is a herding dog.  They are very protective of their flock (kids) and they really aren't big fans of water.  Hence the reason the dog lost his mind.  He then proceeded to eat the sofa. When the man came back into the house and saw the sofa, he beat the dog.  The dog growled at him.  So that was that – they brought him back to the rescue, saying that he was aggressive.  What an asshole.  I was actually glad to hear he growled at the guy.  That's my king of dog! 

            So I took him home for the week.  I bought a kennel for him for when I wasn't at home.  It took Henry (he desperately deserved a new, better, name) 2 days to figure out that when I picked up my keys, that I was getting ready to leave, and also getting ready to put him in the kennel.  On the 3^rd day, I picked up my keys, and Henry went into the kennel on his own.  He turned around and watched to see if I was going to come and shut the door.  I did shut the door, but that was the last time.  I left him out the next day, and, I am happy to report, he did not eat the sofa (or anything else).

            Over the years, Henry has had his moments.  Because of the abuse he experienced, he has never been trusting of men.  He will warm up to them, but it takes him a little time to do so.  I was a single Mom with 2 kids, 7 and 8 years old; a big dog that barked and growled at strange men totally worked for me.  There were a couple of men that he never warmed up to, even when they were making a sincere effort to befriend him.  I should have listened to the dog and never dated those guys.  However, when I walk him down to the riverfront park at night here in Old Town, and an old drunk guy from the VFW Hall walks up to him to pet him, he thinks that's just fine.  Go figure.  He was great with my kids, when they were little.  He enjoyed herding them.  This was a favorite game for all involved.  They would run, Henry would chase them and nip at their heels.  When this wasn't enough to stop the kids, Henry would tackle them.  For some reason, my kids thought this was a great game.  I know I enjoyed watching it.  He never did get past the water thing.  When the kids were small, I would take them and the other neighborhood kids over to the park in the afternoon to swim off of the boat ramps.  Henry would bark the entire time.  He would occasionally go in the water and attempt to pull them out.  This didn't work out very well for him, but he tried. 

            Through the years, he has eaten some shoes, pooped in the house now and again, and has gotten into the garbage more times than I can count.  He has barked at the mailman every day of his life, and occasionally he has chased the cats (our cats – the same ones he naps with). But Henry has also always been the house referee.  He takes his role of herd tender very seriously.  He has always made sure that the cats didn't eat the birds, or the rats, or the hamsters, or the squirrel, or the ferrets.  He took care of the kids when they were small.  No one was allowed to approach them unless Henry gave it the okay.  He was also very adept at breaking up the kids when they fought with each other.  He accomplished this by barking (a lot) and, if that didn't do it, he would physically stand between them while continuing to bark.  After a couple of minutes of nonstop barking, the kids would get annoyed with him, which seemed to cause them to forget what they were fighting about in the first place.  What a smart dog.

            The kids are grown now and no longer live at home.  It's just me and Henry.  Well, not quite.  We also have a Newfoundland (Sophie) and a Standard Schnauzer (Emmett), along with a couple of cats (Little and Victor) and a Sun Conure (Zeke).  But Henry is still top dog.  He is getting old now, which fills me with sorrow.  He's getting a little arthritic.  Some days he can't quite make it up into my Suburban, and I have to give him a little assistance. Some days he can't quite make it up on the couch, so I lift him.  He is full of lumps which are fatty deposits.  It's another sign of old age.  His fur is no longer black.  He is gray and faded.  When I get up in the morning, he no longer leaps out of bed with me, like he used to.  He now opts to sleep in, coming downstairs about a half hour later.  Winters are getting to be hard on him.  He walks very carefully, so he doesn't slip on the ice. And if it's really cold, he won't go outside without his sweater.  He's an 80 lb. dog and he looks silly in a sweater, but he likes it, so what the hell?  He's 12 ½ now.  I know our time is limited.  I am sobbing at the thought of no longer having Henry in my life.  Some days, when he is having a hard time moving well, I simply sit and cry because it hurts me so much to see him growing old.  When this happens, he comes and comforts me. I wonder if he knows why I am sad?  Does he feel old?  Does he understand the passing of time?  I hope not.  In looking back over my life, my relationship with Henry is the most successful I've ever had.  Sometimes I feel guilty because I know I could have been better to him.  When we were all younger, I took him for granted.  He was always there; he was constant.  I knew I could count on him.  His limitless capacity for love and compassion never ceases to astound me.  It awes me that he loves me.  I'm not sure I deserve it.  He is the best person I know.