Six Months of Henry
Today marks six months since I pulled Henry out of his previous living arrangements. One full quarter of his life.
What’s weird is that he seems to have realized the difference, too — in just the last two or three days, he’s become far more independent than he had been before. I’ve been sick, so my sleeping schedule has been all disrupted. Last night, he was asleep on his nice, soft bed in the office/computer/sewing room, and I actually had to *call* him to bed.
That same dog that I had to call to bed? He once ate his way out of a crate when I was out of the house for ten minutes. He had a nervous breakdown if he can’t see me or can’t get to me, even with other dogs and people around. He’ll sometimes blow a gasket if I walk to the mailbox and the blinds in the front of the house are pulled.
But he’s getting better. It’s been four months since we last had to deworm him. It’s been three months since we solved the last of his health issues and he started pooping solid. It’s been over a month and a half since Eo last took a swipe at him because she was hurting. It’s these little milestones that make a rescue. It’s being able to mark the calendar and smile that makes life with a “rescue dog” into a life worth living at any cost.
Welcome home, little lemon brain.