Silly Tailless Pom - Still My Inspiration

As mentioned in a long ago blog, we have a little dog by the name of Harry. A rather odd little tailless Pomeranian whose senior years have given him a quirky and just plain weird bent. We, in fact, now have 3 dogs. Cleo, my brilliant but now much older Border Collie (14 years old and, sadly, showing it), and the newest addition, inherited from my father, Toby, the Shih Tzu - always cuddly and willing to remind us what a young dog should act like. He and Cleo bonded immediately - two like minds. It took Harry a bit longer to warm up to this happy and lovable little guy. They are thankfully, now buddies...the "two littles".

But back to Harry. Over a year ago, we knew Harry was dying. He had become incontinent and had been coughing and sounding downright frightening at times. Then the seizures began. I, thankfully, never witnessed one, but all the men in my house have seen one and were each traumatized and scared silly in seeing it. They knew he was dying before their eyes. He has congestive heart failure - his heart is not working well enough to keep things circulating like they should, and his lungs are filling with fluid. So, Sean, being Harry's "official" owner and I, not wanting him to suffer, knew it was most likely time to have him euthanized. To reiterate...this was last summer.

Can you see where this is going?

Early in the summer of 2012, Sean actually went out back and dug a grave for Harry. We then, tearfully, brought him to our vet and good friend, Dr. Mark Davis. We were told that whatever we decided would be the right thing, but it was our decision. As we sat there with tears in our eyes, Dr. Davis offered some strong cough meds and said to go home and see how things went. 

Well, it's been long over a year now. Harry has rallied, had plenty of moments of lethargy and bad coughing, lots of wheezing...even a few more seizures. But...there have also been plenty of moments of hilarity and charging the fence to fend off the enemy Yorkie next door, and stealing Toby's toys, and begging in the kitchen (which he has gotten much worse at - poor dying dog - give him what he wants. He is now rotten.) And chasing tennis balls, and pulling the fuzz off of tennis balls, and pulling the squeaker out of anything that squeaks (his goal in life). He is a trooper on long car trips to visit the family in Oklahoma and now Texas - riding in the van relaxes him beyond compare.

The grave is still out back and I'm pretty sure we've all seen him jump over it a few times. We're afraid to fill it back in.

So, I've been considering getting us all out there to dig a big ol' hole for me. I want to jump over it and laugh at it for a good long time.  Best thing about Harry is he does not know he is sick. (Ignorance is often so very blissful.) And somehow, his incontinence actually went away. I want what he's having - attitude-wise. As goofy and unimpressive as he can be, he is still my inspiration. 

Me and Harry - laughing at death and enjoying each day - whatever it may bring!

Harry hasn't a clue he should not be here right now.
And shame on us for thinking any other way.