His name was Harry. He was a good dog. He was gentle. He was caring and considerate, cordial and coordinated in his efforts to please. Not a day would go by without him eyeing his owner, checking, looking and listening for what he may do next. Whenever his owner would walk the house he'd be just a step behind. When his owner would turn, then Harry sat, and went into his downward dog position. What the owner did next was walk and Harry did that too.
Breakfast was served to Harry in the morning. The food was dry but in the center was the moist food. Harry only ate the center and left the rest to snack throughout his dog day afternoons. The days weren't as long as a dog would have you believe. He laid, listened, perked his ears up occasionally and very seldom barked. The only time Harry barked was if there was an awkward knock or sometimes when his owner showed a deeply caring and compassionate look letting Harry know he was truly loved, that everything is and will forever be okay. For, a day without Harry would be a day without his best friend, buddy and companion.
Harry had gray eyes. In the night they glistened blue. In the deadest dark Harry's cool blue eyes shined like turquoise. Harry knew his owner's birthday was in December and Harry would always here that story. The story of how his owner was born the day before Capricorn took its sign but that was just balderdash to Harry. He listened but rarely ever heard.
The times in which the owner lived were not tough, for Harry always had his dinner, a warm place in the winter and a cool place in the summer but it was the transitional seasons that were the hardest for him. Going from one season to the next took months and sometimes Harry labored over the change. The reluctance Harry felt was overwhelming sometimes but he knew change happened and that the best thing to do was just to roll with it.
Sometimes Harry and the owner would leave the house. They would do that when they couldn't sit still but Harry always could -- sit still.
The owner at times would look sad. Harry could see it but his owner couldn't. There was something that was bothering him and that also bothered Harry. Sometimes Harry would go up and lick his owner's hand but that wasn't enough and his owner just pushed him away. Harry let him be. He was a dog. What more could he do?
The owner at times would look happy. Harry could see it and his owner could too. There were somethings that didn't bother him and also didn't bother Harry. Sometimes Harry would frolic, balance on his hind legs and yip a little to enjoy in the joy his owner felt. His owner would get up and dance with Harry. They danced together to music, no music. Harry let him be. He was a dog. What more couldn't he do?
Harry obviously wasn't able to speak in the human sense. He couldn't tell a lie either and had no secrets. There are no secrets to have if there wasn't anything to be hidden or revealed. Harry knew a lot but just too little for anyone to have any kind of stake in his silence. Silence to Harry meant nothing but all the world to his owner.
A solitary life, Harry, his owner and the occasional visitor. Maybe every now and again a love interest would stop by but never for long and never over night. But they never went upstairs for Harry, him and when his love interest were there just conversed in front of the TV or while the radio played and sometimes there was just complete, dead and utter silence. Harry enjoyed the smooth sounds of conversation that caressed his dog ears as sometimes they would perk up.
Years and years went by and by and time just seemed to fly. The man Harry knew was changing and Harry was too. He was getting slower and his eyes drooped. At times Harry had a hard time walking but his owner helped him. He would carry him to the yard so Harry could do his essential business. Harry also had a hard time getting to the food bowl, even. Harry knew he didn't have too much time left. He knew that knowing that was too much. He knew his owner knew that about him too and Harry just looked him in the eyes and they both stared at each other and Harry knew he knew.
The car ride was a peaceful one. Harry just laid in the back looking towards his owner but not at him. Harry thought he was looking at him but his owner knew he was not. His owner knew Harry didn't know that he couldn't see.
Harry was picked up and carried into a building. Harry looked towards sounds but even then faintly heard them. Harry was calm, quiet and content. He took his trip with a sense of pride knowing that he knew too much. He knew the world was too caring to let him live any longer and that both the world and his owner deeply cared for him.
Harry's owner handed Harry over.
Harry yipped a little and was too tired to continue for the length of the injection.
With that his owner left but not before leaning down and as Harry took his last breath, he looked into his owner's eyes, being able to see them -- barely-- and barked, but not a bark for an awkward knock; that never happened. And, Harry became motionless. His owner cradled him, said his goodbyes, left and rode home, home to the memory of Harry, home to know that there is no place like home so long as his best friend was not there.
Years and years later, after never having another Harry, Harry and his owner reconnected, reunited and there, together, they both slipped into a peaceful, deep and lasting sleep -- forever -- together.