Our Henry turns seven today. He’s been with us seven years and it seems totally unbelievable. He was so tiny when we picked him up and brought him home.
Seven years he’s been around to comfort me and cuddle with me. He takes care of us. He’s a character (one I’m trying to write into an actual character).
Two years ago we thought we were losing him, but he came back to us only a little bit worse for wear. He still has problems. One of his legs is a little behind and he’s not always in control of himself. He looks so sad sometimes, like he knows he’s not what he used to be. We take him for a run and he almost forgets that he’s not his old self, until he gets tired and he can’t run any more. Lately he asks to be pick up and placed on the bed rather than jumping up, and sometimes we have to carry him upstairs because he doesn’t think he can make it himself.
One thing no one can take away from him? He’s the best person in this house to take a nap with.
Happy Birthday buddy.