CW: Pet Death
I just got the news from Harley's human that this exceptional good boy, this 200lb lapdog, this absolute goober, passed in his sleep last night.
I met Harley on a random walk, asked if I could pet him, and got warned, "Yes, he's friendly, but he also makes only one terrifying noise."
When I kneeled down, and he let out his best "I'm a mastiff and you're going to die" boof, and I didn't flinch, two things happened simultaneously.
He ran up to me for pets, and his human asked if I was interested in dog sitting.
And... of course I was. Look at him.
I only got to know him for about two years - and it feels wrong that that should be a full quarter of his life.
I'm glad I got to love him while he was here.
A week or so ago, I got to watch him for a day. He was... tired. The stairs were clearly a bigger deal than they used to be; he was far more interested in leaning on you and getting loved on than playing tug. I was hopeful it wasn't a sign.
But I got a chance to say goodbye, for which I'm grateful.
Walking Harley.
In order to bypass the "I refuse to walk more" as soon as this 200lb lap dog pees, I've resorted to hiding treats in my hand and pockets.
As someone who is also food motivated, i get it.
