Aug 5: Family Pet

The other night I was tucking Truman into bed and Henry walked into the room, as he usually does. T and I were laying on the ground, as we usually do (lately). And Henry plopped his furry butt down in between our shins, on top of the sheet, and he sighed as if to say, 'I'm totally spent, dudes.'

Truman giggled and said, 'Doggie!' and we both sat up to marvel at our silly Cockapoo. As soon as we pet his side he rolled onto his back and spread his lower legs apart, begging for a thigh rub. His doggie junk was sort of on display at this point, so I figured I would give Truman a canine anatomy lesson.

'This is his penis.'

'His peeeeee-nissssss?'

'Yes.'

'But where is his butt?'

I reluctantly pointed to Henry's nether region and Truman said, 'Oh, just like those goats at the zoo!' Yes, son. The goat that pooped right in front of you, bringing about the look of fear and curiosity and wonder that only a three year old boy could have when it comes to goat poop. Just like a goat butt, our dog has a butt. Big on the butt talk over here.

So then we pet Henry for awhile, rubbing his belly and his ears and marveling at his big black paws. I told Truman that when Henry was a little puppy, his paws had pink spots on them. Now they are all black. Now he is almost eight years old. For some reason it hit me then that my beloved Henry is aging faster than any of us and I had to fight back a tear thinking of those puppy paws he used to have.

'Truman, even before you were in my tummy I had Henry here with me. He's almost eight years old, buddy, can you believe that?'

'Henry the dog, or Henry the boy?'

'Henry the dog, Tru. He's getting older...'

And I stopped there because there is no need to go all Marley and Me right now, imagining a day when Truman has to say goodbye to his doggie. But right then, on Truman's floor, I saw how much he adores old Hankster. Henry obviously loves Truman just as much in return, laying there with his tail waging, soaking up all the attention like it was the best part of his day. Even better than when Henry scarfed Truman's graham crackers. He looked more content laying on Truman's floor than I've seen him in awhile.

I told T that I would go down and get daddy now, and Tru said he would keep petting Henry. I informed Nate to bring his phone upstairs and try to get that moment on film. Because how freaking sweet, right?



Nate also got a video but then Truman accidentally deleted it from his phone. Whoops.

A little boy and his dog, resting together before bed. The dog getting some serious TLC and a light-bulb moment from his owner: even when he drives me batty with his barking at slamming car doors three houses away, and even when he is eating the kids' food in lightning speeds he is still my Henry. He was my 'first born' and is still a huge part of our family.

And although he's slipped a bit in the ranks of our clan, going from top dog before kids to a little further down on the totem pole, he still has a pretty sweet life. We love our buddy even if he doesn't get the attention and blog posts and 2:1 human to dog time he used to get. And I'm pretty sure he loves us right back. Actually, I know he loves us. And I pray he will be around forever, somehow.

From our current Henry-dog to our puppy Henry...