About a year ago, almost to the day, our family dog Harry passed away. He was very old and had a(nother) seizure and the vet found many cancers throughout his body. I remember so clearly Dad calling me to tell me of Harry's seizure, that he was taking him to the vet and that he'd let me know what was happening when he knew more. That day I had gotten up early and was cleaning up my study while listening to the Stephen Fry audiobook of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone (the book about the boy wizard after whom our dog was named).
Harry was a big part of my life, as are many childhood pets. He was always there for me when I was stressed about Rob, stressed about life. He was to me the perfect dog. Dorky, sweet, a great pal and a bit of an idiot. Even though Harry wasn't our first family dog, he was the first I had a say in adopting. When I drew wolves (my favourite animal) as a kid, I drew Harry.
He was like another sibling to both me and Rob. And I still miss him lots. I still sometimes forget he's gone and when I visit my parents I expect him to greet me when I arrive or automatically go to feed him my leftover fish at the dinner table.
He was such a big part of our lives that he has a starring role in Oh Brother, in particular in part two (which I have just finished the draft of!). Which of course means that he needed his own character sheet.
It's been hard writing the stories that feature Harry but I'm glad I can celebrate his radness with others in comic form. My biggest regret is that I wasn't with him when he was put down. I still wish I had seen him one last time, to thank him for being such a great friend and pillow.
To all the pet pals out there, you guys are the best.