Henry is 2 today.
he was born on a farm in Missouri and they nicknamed him "The Duke". he had another brother which they nicknamed "The Hoss". to my horror, the breeder shipped him to Portland, Oregon instead of Maine and it took the 8 week old pup 22 hours to get to Boston. the whole situation was awful. i was fighting with my roomate and didn't want him to come home to a hostile environment so i was staying at my parents house.
my Mom and i picked him up at 2:30 in the morning at Logan. we were looking around frantically for this puppy and as i was standing in a line i saw a crate and a droopy, exhausted dog with ears touching his paws. he yelped and i ran over to him. Mom and i took him into the bathroom and propped him up on the counter. he was shaking and so confused and tired after a terrible experience. we cleaned him up and got into the car. i'll never forget him and i in the back seat. he was so tiny and fragile that i thought i would break him if i wasn't careful. now, Hank the Tank can literally knock people over if they sit on the floor.
if you have a dog, you know what i mean when i say that they are the best. sometimes he'll be sitting on the floor staring at me and i can't help but stare back and say "i just love you".
