Henry was my mother's dog. My father acquired him as a 2-year old, a German Shorthaired Pointer that wouldn't shed [much], and who would keep my mom company. And that--keeping my mom company--was what Henry did for 10 years, until my mom died one year ago.
The last 6 months of my mother's life were hard on everyone in our family: she was sent numerous times to the ER in a near-death state. Henry was always protective of her; as she laid there unconscious he would growl at the EMT's and police, pacing in front of her bed, clawing at doors.
Mom spent the last 4 months in hospital, my dad at her side every day. He paid her home-care attendant, Donna, to go to the hospital each morning until he got there, then race home to watch Henry, who was freaking out from the loss of my mom and his routine.
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