Harry, the smelly old West Highland Terrier, is back. You’ll laugh, you’ll cry:
Harry’s allergies have made his hair fall out and his skin turn black in spots. He’s old — we’re not sure how old, as we picked him up from a shelter years ago when he was already over the canine hill. The only time he gets up anymore is to rub his rear end on the carpet. I’d stop him, but it’s the only pleasure he has left in life.
For the longest time, Grandma was just coming by to take Harry for a walk around the neighborhood. She’d stop by every morning, jingle the leash, and Harry, who hates exercise, would shrink in his doggie bed, trying to look invisible. Grandma, who likes exercise and who doesn’t take “no” for an answer, would march over, hook him up and drag him out the door. Literally.
Some mornings, Harry would just roll on his side and refuse to cooperate, and Grandma had to pull so hard I thought his little head would pop off and roll across the carpet.
Read more about Harry.