Dear Harley

Dear Harley,

When I married your mom, I wasn’t a dog person, but she was a package deal, and with her, I became the caregiver for her hound dog, Jake. He was a squirrely rescue that had all the signs of having been abused as he was timid and untrusting of males until you earned it. Unfortunately for us, at the age of six, Jake began defecating and urinating within the home, and what we believed were behavioral issues resulted in the veterinarian diagnosing him with acute liver failure.

Although his mannerisms towards me made him, at times, difficult to deal with, his jaundiced eyes belied the youthful exuberance that existed in a body that had failed him far too soon, and even I, the lover of cats, and someone that claimed not to be a dog person, was heartbroken.

I held him until he passed, and cried as I gasped for air. It was the hardest thing I’d ever had to do, and I struggled to come to terms with it for weeks.

Then came a newspaper article about a litter of German Shepradors about 30 miles away, and your mom was adamant that we “check it out.” 

“Grab money,” I told her, “I know me, and if I fall in love with one, I’m going to want to bring it home.”

When we arrived, there were two dogs left; You, and your brother. In retrospect, one of the greatest regrets in my life is that I didn’t adopt both of you that day, but I went with my gut instincts, and you have become the greatest dog I’ll ever have.

Although it felt much too soon after Jake’s passing to bring home another dog, I couldn’t believe how you were able to heal our broken hearts in a way that I’ve learned only a dog can.

Eventually came your sister, the tiny human, and eventually your chocolate lab brother, the lovable idiot that we tend to think you still believe is a practical joke, although you’ve embraced him, even if you obviously find him annoying.

Through career changes, familial evolutions, accomplishments, a global pandemic, ($12,000 in surgeries for your cranial c and countless losses, you’ve been our faithful companion, loyal provider of kisses, and occupier of foot-space on the bed, resulting in us sleeping with our knees in our chest, but we wouldn’t have it any other way.

Now that you’re 11, not a day goes by that I don’t think about the inevitable day that sees you leave this world, and no matter how much I may know that, when that day comes, it’s time for you to go, I’ll never be ok with it. You’ve been here for so many chapters in our lives, that it’s hard to imagine writing any without you.

Someday, we’ll have plenty of leg room, our wood floors won’t feature muddy paw prints, nor will they be littered with tufts of white hair that we affectionally refer to as “Harley Glitter” or “Tumble Harleys,” but I’d much rather have all of those small mementos than lose you.

So just know, that with every treat, and every belly rub, and every moment I spend with you, you’re often one of the best parts of my days, and although someday you will be gone from my life, you will live forever in my heart, and in my memories.

Until then, let’s enjoy each and every moment we have together… I love you, buddy.