He is huge, he gallops, and he is skilled at looking pathetic outside the front door windows. But best of all, he lives down the hill. And his name is Henry. Henry jumped in the car with his true owner, some younger family members wistfully waved good-bye, and I sighed a huge sigh of relief. Some seasons of life do not call for horse-sized dogs loping across the hillsides, not matter how cute they are.
Come back and visit sometime, Henry. Now that we know where you live, we'll be more relaxed and give you dog bones and throw things for you to chase. What fun we will have, now that we know you can go home when we are done.