The Day We Said Goodbye - Remembering the Heart of a Dog

It was 4 years ago today when, on a day gray, dark, and pouring rain, my son and I knelt beside one of the best friends we will ever have, our big Great Dane named Henley. We were waiting for the veterinarian to come into the room with the Xrays that would confirm what we really already knew. Cancer was working hard to bring our big boy down. It wasn't the first time we had been in that room.

A few months earlier, Henley had fallen desperately ill with an infection. We stood in that same room as one of the vets told us that there probably wasn't anything to do except either to wait for him to die, or to put him down. We brought him home, carrying all 155 pounds out of that office on a quilt. Thanks to the skilled help of another vet who was a friend, and all our our complete dedication to his care, we pulled him through, only to find ourselves 6 months later being told the same thing as before.

Due to the chance that the leg bone, riddled with cancer, might snap and plunge Henley into instant and torturing pain, this time we gave away a few days or months of chances to love and be loved, and held him close as he fell to sleep and then away from us forever. I hope he knew how much he was loved, and that what we did was the hardest thing we have ever done.

There are still times when I come through the door and think about his greetings. 155 pounds of complete and utter joy mixed with love as he pranced and wiggled his big form, all the while making that "woo woo woo" love growl that we all loved to hear. Still times I see that big collar of his and wish he was in it. Our Airedales are awesome and we love them fiercely. But I have to confess that there's nothing like a Dane.

From the first moment Bunny and I saw that face, already impossibly big for a dog his age, we were smitten. He was our dog and we were his. The years that followed saw us share lots of adventures and a few hardships - but every time I came through the door, I knew that greeting was coming. We took him with us on trips to Dallas, to Savannah, and many times to Macon. It was always funny to see the looks from people in small towns along the way when out of the back of our Kia Sportage came "the horse." One time in Colquitt a family made a complete circle of the Hardees just so their kids could see Henley again. What I'd give to see him again.

That's the only flaw in Great Danes, really. They are subject to the same mortality as we are, even more so as their lives average 7-10 years. We had 7, and they were the best.

So thank you God, for such an amazing gift. I'll continue praying that out of your mercy, you'll see fit to let us see him again, and experience the joy of that reunion.

“You think those dogs will not be in heaven! I tell you they will be there long before any of us.” 
― Robert Louis Stevenson

It's Been A Year Today - Henley the Great Dane

"He is your friend, your partner, your defender, your dog.
You are his life, his love, and his leader. He will be yours,
faithful and true, to the last beat of his heart.
You owe it to him to be worthy of such devotion."

-- Unknown

He was all of that and more to the very last heartbeat one year ago today, as we spared him cancer's clawing and ripping at the expense of our own hearts being rent in two. We could have held onto him a few more days, maybe weeks. We could have maimed him and kept him a few months longer. But with everything Henley gave us - the unselfish love he poured into our hearts over seven years - the thought of him in pain meant parting way before we were ready to.

Great Danes don't live as long as other dogs anyway, and we knew that. We knew that sooner rather than later we'd lose him. But as every year past, we pushed reality out a little farther. We nursed him through a sickness earlier last year that had one of the vets giving up on him. Bringing him home, we fed him rice and chicken by the spoonful, slept on the floor beside him for five nights, carried him outside using a towel under his waist to help him stand when he was so, so weak. And he came back to us. We had another four months of joy until the lump on his back leg kept growing. Cancer. It riddled the bone to the point that the next step he made could have broken the leg and plunged him into pain. We laid on the floor again with him at the Vet's office as he closed his eyes for the last time in this world.

One year ago today.

He was the very best dog we have ever known. Henley the Great Dane affected us in ways few creatures that have ever lived on this earth have. Even now, one year later, not a day goes by that we don't miss him fiercely, and tears are not an infrequent sight on Bunny or my face.

He was awesome. I'm praying with all my heart that I will see him again someday.

It Still Hurts

One of the last pictures of Henley I have. If you notice, he's not putting much weight on his left rear leg. When you know what to look for, you can see that the "hock" is enlarged. That's where the cancer was. The bones of his leg were riddled with cancer to such a point that he could have stepped wrong at any point and broken it. We didn't know the extent of the danger at this point. But when the vet showed us the X-rays... we made the painful decision  to put him to sleep.One of the hardest things we have ever done, but we couldn't bear the thought of him in that pain.

Lord knows we miss him. It hurts. We'd give almost anything to have him back.

But I believe God gave us Henley and that He is even now in God's care. The Bible says that the soul of every creature is in God's hand. (Job 10:12) One day, my hope is to feel that velvet nose nudging my hand, and that great big body leaning against me. It'll make heaven even more special.

Until then, we have two great Airedale pups to love and be loved by, and we WILL have another Great Dane. But it still hurts.

henley - our friend

Good days and bad days, he was so loving and meant so much. Missing him today. We will have another Great Dane someday.

To Love, Again

We brought home two Airedales Friday from a rescue organization. They had been placed with a family in Florida and it didn't work out, because the family lived on a farm where wild dogs, coyotes, and snakes caused a threat to them. The female was actually bitten by a snake and that was the tipping point. They are two years old.

The contrast between them and our dear friend Henley the Great Dane is wide and it's not just the difference in size. Henley had been ours since twelve weeks of age, and was conditioned over years to be a very loving dog. He was human dependent. Came wherever you were in the house. Laid down next to you on the sofa. Rejoiced when you came home and grieved when you were gone. Towards the end of his time with us, he was even more clingy and loving.

The greatest thing Henley did for us with that kind of love was that in his giving of it, he took away our stresses and anxieties. There's just something about having a dog lying next to you and being in a state of total calm that causes the human beside them to relax too. From his beginning nuzzle to day's end sigh as he laid down next to the bed, we received a blessing that we had no idea how much we would miss. Bunny and I were at Petsmart Saturday and were both moved to tears talking about just how much we were loved.

Now we have two funny faced Airedales in our home. They are energetic. They are independent. They are self entertaining. They are NOT Henley.

We are trying to love them the way we loved Henley, and they - in particular the girl - Stevie, is beginning to respond. She'll let you put her beside you on the couch and stay there a while. The boy -Mick, can be loving when he chooses to, but still pulls away when you try to draw him near. They have improved since we brought them home Friday, but we really, really need them to love us as fiercely as Henley did. Doesn't have to be the exact same expressions of love. There are things the Airedales do that are unique and cool. But we need to bond with them as fast as we can. Otherwise we might as well not have dogs at all, and they need to be with a family that can love them as they are.

If I sound disappointed it's because I am. It's proving much harder for us to love again.

Would you pray for us?

Sighs Instead of Slobbers

One of the things that marked Henley's last few days was his change in seating arrangements. Until his leg began to bother him, 90% of the time he'd lay beside me on the love seat, and would occasionally visit Bunny on the couch. He'd lie down at the opposite end from her most of the time. In his last days, he seemed to want to be next to her more. We found out it was probably that he was already hurting. But when this was taken, three days before he left us, we thought he just wanted to be close. And he did.

Nighttime is absolutely the worst.

Still Missing Henley

This is the top of the Tupperware container that holds our hot dogs. Henley LOVED hot dogs. he probably considered the day he grabbed this off the counter as one of the best events in his life.

He left his mark on the top. And he grabbed a place in our hearts forever.

I'm trying to move on, talking to dog people about Airedales, Irish Wolfhounds, even Great Danes. Taking way too long to make a decision when any of them would probably bring us a wonderful dog (or two).

But there will never, ever, ever be another Henley.

I miss him so much.

It's Been Three Weeks Today

We miss him so, so much.

We've been searching for another dog, but it will not be a replacement for this guy. It's hard.

Two weeks and two days after

Sure it's getting easier. Probably am down to tearing up 5 times a day instead of 25. But it still feels awful. Empty house. Empty sofa. Quiet without those "boofs" and "woo woo woo woo" noises. No big sighs when he laid down. No "whack whack" when his tail hit the walls as his excitement showed.

We miss him.

The Big Dog Blues

It's not getting easier.

We're scouring the internet, contacting rescue organizations, and it's too slow. NO dog will ever replace our big heart/friend Henley, but another sure can help us heal. Almost got sucked into a scam yesterday with a Bulldog puppy supposedly in Cameroon. Desperate people do stupid things. Second time so far since Henley's passing. We almost threw $1500 at some Petland people to bring another dane home last week.

Hoping and praying that one of the emails and other outreaches bears fruit soon.

Tough living without a dog.

After A Week...

It'll be a week today since we ended Henley's life to spare him more agony from bone cancer. Every single day I have told myself - we have told ourselves that we did what we needed to do to love Henley just as sacrificially and faithfully as he loved us. That last day was no exception.

It's probably hard for people who have never let a dog capture their heart to grasp just how much they become a part of your life. So let me give you a rundown of what we would have done with Henley so far today.

When we woke up, I'd have looked beside the bed to see how he was. Sometimes he'd scoot so far under the bed he'd get stuck, or back himself into the corner. So I'd check. Then each of us in turn would take a minute to love on Henley before we left the bedroom.

We'd be busy making breakfast and doing morning chores, and we'd hear a "FLAP, FLAP, FLAP" which would be Henley getting his ears in shape. The next thing we'd hear is Henley getting up and making his way down the hall. If we were in the kitchen, he'd look over at us, pause, and we'd call out to him, celebrating another day's beginning. Then we'd take him outside.

From there, we'd come back in and Henley would most often go and get some water. Then he'd come back in where we were eating breakfast and lie down beside us on the couch. That is unless there was bacon involved. Without it, he just shifted his sleep from the bedroom to the couch. With it, he would sit and loom over whoever had it until you gave it up. But most of the time Henley would lay on the loveseat, getting up from it only to stroll outside or get some water and food.

Unless we left the room.

Then Henley would hunt us down and lay down near us. If I was in my office, it wasn't unusual for him to get up and come and sit in the chair with me, getting his rubs and scratches. Or he'd sit in the big chair and look out the window, or pick up his front legs while he sat and paw at me until I paid him the attention he wanted. After a sufficient amount of affection was delivered, he'd lie down nearby.

At lunch, he'd stir himself to come see me about a hot dog. Henley LOVED hot dogs. Earlier in his life I would just give them to him whole, but later because of occasional problems with hot dog returns, I'd mash them up with my hands and put them over his food, making sure that no part was too big for him. Bunny would pour the water off her tuna over his food sometimes as well. Even if he wasn't ready to eat, all you had to say was "go see!" and he'd get up and head back to where his raised food bowls were.

When we'd leave, he'd be left lying on the loveseat. That was where he spent the majority of his day. But when we returned he would meet us at the back door, peeking around Bunny to see me. I'd greet him with as much affection as he did me then he'd go get some more love from Bunny. At times he'd give us some of the vocal antics we heard about even before we picked him up as a puppy. "Oh, the puppy is very vocal," the rescue folks had told us. And he was. A "woo woo woo" was the height of an affectionate response and all three of us LOVED that. If we were gone, even overnight, we'd get a welcome by an almost frantic dog who couldn't seem to tell us enough how much we were missed.

After we got home from work he'd settle back into his spot next to one of us on either the couch or loveseat. Toward the end he could only spend a certain amount of time on one side or the other, and added his bed on the floor to his routine. Dogs are often stoic, and it's hard to tell they hurt, but changes like that coupled with his lameness let us know.

Once we were ready to go to bed, we'd lower the shades, and the sound of them coming down was a trigger for Henley to make his way down the hall and wait for me to get his bed ready. Once it was, he'd circle a couple of times and lie down with a sigh. I'd have to step around him to get into bed, but without fail I'd scratch his face or stroke those velvet-like ears. When the lights were turned out, often he'd sigh again. I always thought that was his way of saying "another day with those crazy humans is over, now I can rest." Henley loved us fiercely every day.

I started this post at church and am finishing it here at the house. Henley added so much to each of us Wilsons. But I'd have to say that he also cost us in other relationships. We just hosted our friend Allan Hill, Sean's friend Jason, and Sean and Chelsea for supper. That wouldn't have happened with Henley here. Allan was scared of Henley. And we'd have had to spend some energy keeping him out of our hair during supper. I blame us, not him. We could have trained him to be more social, and we didn't. To those who came often, he was great. But you had to get to know him.

The most awesome dog I have ever known has been gone a week now. Life goes on, we even get some blessings like tonight we wouldn't have gotten with him, but I miss him terribly still.

Every Dog Was A Therapy Dog Today

It's been 5 days now since we lost our big friend Henley to bone cancer. We continue to realize all the ways he interacted with us as we lived together as a family. You just don't realize what a part of your life he was until he's gone. Grieving continues here, but we're trying.

We went to Petland the other night just to hold puppies. All of us hate what Petland does to dogs and yet we went. And there we met Caroline (Bunny named her) the Great Dane puppy. She was awesomely sweet and ridiculously expensive, with a spotty pedigree and yet we almost hit the plastic. Even Sean was captured by her. We escaped, went home, and worried about how she was doing. Still do.

Today we went out to "Dog Daze" at the beautiful Ft Walton Beach Landings park. Incredibly nice place and dogs, dogs, dogs as far as the eye could see. Every dog I petted was a therapy dog for me. Some were more responsive than others. The huge English Mastiffs were snuggly and put their paw on you like Henley used to. I got "snuffled" by an Irish Wolfhound. A golden named Zoe gave me a few moments of her love and attention. The standard schnauzer and giant schnauzers were great too, but less affectionate.

The last dog I petted was a merle dane. She gave me a big sloppy kiss. I'll bet Henley told her I needed one. I did.

We'll keep looking for another forever friend.

All They Know How To Do Is Love

For the first time in 20 years, there's no dog in our house. It's incredibly empty. Our first "inside" dog was Adam's "Daisy". She was a miniature schnauzer with more personality than any dog I've ever known. When we moved down here, Daisy stayed with Adam. Sean's "Ellie" had followed Daisy, another mini schnauzer who was the sweetest dog ever. Chloe, our first Dane,moved down here with us. In fact the first night in our house, while Bunny and Sean slept in the Holiday Inn Express, Chloe, Ellie and I slept on the floor upstairs together. Chloe died tragically at 4. For a little while it was just Ellie, but then Henley came into our life.

When Sean first saw him, he said "It's a miniature Dane." And Henley was for a short period of time, but he kept growing. And growing. And growing. We learned to love the big guy for his own eccentric and wonderful ways. For example, he hated the rumble of the bombs falling out on the range. He would search the house to find Bunny, his protector. He didn't like flying things either - same result.

And every day, every time we left the house and returned, he'd greet us at the door with that goofy look on his face and sometimes a "woo woo woo." The last year we wound up gone a lot for two night stays in Macon. Sean said Henley just mourned the whole time we were gone. So we tried not to be gone, and we bought a vehicle we could take him with us. He went with us to Savannah last year, to Macon several times, and even to Dallas several years ago. The looks on the faces of people when the 42" tall 155lb Great Dane came out of the vehicle were priceless.

Life with a Dane requires adjustments. Nothing is safe on the counter. Once Sean left a Subway sandwich on the counter and left the room. When he returned, he faced a very happy Dane and an empty counter. Cooking was sometimes difficult because if Henley smelled something he liked, like bacon, he'd hover waiting for a handout. He loved hot dogs, cheese, and peanut butter. But he wasn't picky.



Early on, Henley and I walked every morning around the bayous of Valparaiso. When we moved to our present house, we walked for a while but it wasn't the same. Still, anytime I got his leash and "Gentle Leader" out and he saw it, he was ready to go. But this house has a fenced back yard that he loved to patrol. He'd chase squirrels up trees, or just stand and admire his kingdom. He'd sometimes stand on our deck and watch the neighbors downhill. They'd call out to him and enjoyed hearing him "boof!"


At the other house we had a bed just for Henley, but on Sunday afternoons after church we would retreat upstairs for an afternoon nap on the big bed. I have to say that Henley could out sleep me, and that's saying something. When we moved here, we decided to get Henley to sleep on the floor, and he did, mostly beside me. But when we were gone, he'd sleep with Sean ON the bed. Sean's bed isn't that big, but he didn't fuss. It was hard to stay mad at Henley.

He wasn't perfect. He'd get the "zoomies" every now and then and go flying around the room. An animal that size can make a lot happen in a hurry and we'd frantically try to calm him down. The "tail of terror" could cause things to break or be whacked off the coffee table.

But he loved. Oh how he loved. You'd head to the back of the house and in a minute Henley would come and lay down where he could see you. He could not stand to be separated from his people. Every return was a family reunion. Our house can be frantically busy at times. I can get called in the middle of the night and find myself trying to help people through a nightmare. We can have multiple needs from different people. And our family has gone through a lot during Henley's lifetime. Through it all, one thing was constant - Henley's love. That big black body lying next to you on the couch would take away all the stress.


And now he's gone, a victim of bone cancer that had aggressively replaced healthy bone with brittle, and had probably metastasized to his lungs. Still, though it probably hurt terribly, he got up every time and met us, just as he always had. We'd leave the room rather than look at him struggle. But his heart won out, always. When he was so sick this spring, he almost died. He was running a high fever and not getting better at the vet. But when I went back to the kennel, he gave me a "woo woo" and a plaintive bark that said "I want to go home." So for days we hand fed him, almost carried him outside. I slept on the floor next to him and he licked the infection. When our friend Ellen Fannon, a vet herself was talking with the vet at the animal hospital she told him "no, you don't understand - these people will do whatever it takes. They LOVE him."

It was in the same spirit that I decided to release him from the pain. It's achingly sad here now. We've both cried so much we're sick. We cried while buying groceries, cried in the car. It hurts so much. There are times I forget and look for him. Bunny started to move some food back off the counter today and realized she didn't have to anymore. The postman came and went without a single "boof!" I guess I need to tell the UPS guy that he doesn't need to keep leaving dog biscuits in his futile attempt to win Henley over.

Missing my friend.

The Days Grow Shorter For Henley

Our big friend Henley has been a faithful and constant companion for almost 8 years. When our first Great Dane, Chloe died, we thought we'd never recover. I poured my heart out on the Great Dane lists we read everyday. And a woman in Tampa let us know that her rescue organization had just received a Great Dane puppy. He was black, like Chloe, and he was available. After we were approved by the group, we drove down to Tampa. When we walked up to the home, I looked through the glass door and saw two danes playing. One was obviously an adult, but the other looked too big to be our puppy. But it was him. He rode back on Bunny's lap.

He's been our friend ever since. It's impossible to underestimate how having him has changed our lives. Our coaches are leather because of Henley. We bought our Honda Element in order to transport him. We've taken him with us on trips. We've planned our days around when he needed us. We've loved him fiercely.

We've enjoyed years of leans and slobbers, silly Dane antics, and his ability to take our bad days at the office and absorb them into his love. The best therapy I have ever received has been by simply having him sit next to me on the coach and hearing him bring forth his contented "ummmph." He's greeted us at the door almost every single time we have ever come home, and grieved on those rare occasions we had to leave him here overnight. Unconditional love? Yeah, he does it.

In May, we almost lost him to an infection. And now, it seems we will almost surely not have him much longer. Our friend and vet Ellen Fannon came over to look at a big hard lump on his lower leg Monday and told us it was almost certainly bone cancer. That will be confirmed soon by X-Rays. Treatment is amputation and chemotherapy, but even then you are only buying time. Only 10% live over a year even with treatment, and without it - 4 months - if the pain doesn't press the need to end the dog's life earlier.

Right now, he's still able to get up and limp around. It seems that immediately after getting up, he cannot put much weight on his leg at all, but as he moves around he can use it some. He's changed the positions that he lays in, probably because of the pain. The cancer most commonly found is very aggressive and from what I have read, by the time the bone swelling is seen, has most often already metastasized to the lungs or elsewhere.

For all of us here, the pregrieving has begun. He's been such a big part of our lives and is so loving...

Is It Worth It?

Two weeks ago, I spent almost every minute over four days sitting or lying on the floor next to my big friend Henley the Great Dane. He had come home from the vet when I was presented with a "take him home or put him down" choice. Henley is a member of our family. As much trouble as any of us may be, we don't put family members "down" because it is inconvenient to care for them.

Started out filled with love and compassion and a "whatever it takes" attitude. Over the next four days it got hard. Sleeping on the floor for four nights in a row wasn't any fun at all. Trying to get a dog who was so sick he wasn't interested in eating anything to take his medicine meant getting up close and personal with some large teeth. Helping him to his feet with the help of others and the use of a towel under his belly was nerve wracking.

These are, as was so famously written, the times that try men's souls. It's easy to love someone or something when everything is going swimmingly. But what if things get bad? Emotion only takes you so far. Commitment has to take over. You have to have already made the decision that it's worth it. Tonight as I type this, my big friend is doing much better. He can walk on his own (with a slight limp), and he's back to doing almost everything he did before. Right now, he and I occupy our customary and well loved places next to each other on the red leather love seat we love.

Was it worth it? Absolutely.

To love at all...

Well, usually this is the picture you'd see about now with Henley sitting on one end of the love seat and me on the other.

But for the second night in a row, Henley's spending the night at the vet hospital where they are giving him IV antibiotics and fluids. His condition is improving - temp down from 105 to 102, he can now sit up where he was unable to yesterday. But the infection that had him flat on the floor is still keeping him away from home.

And we miss him terribly.

Those of you who are not dog people won't truly understand, and unless you've had a big dog like a Great Dane it's still going to be tough. By being such a large presence, Great Danes make you adjust a lot of things in your life to fit them. That can range from remembering not to put that meatball sandwich on the counter (if you want to see it again), to buying a vehicle (Honda Element) specifically to transport the dog.

And it's worth it.

But as C.S. Lewis pointed out, to love at all is to be vulnerable. So not having our big friend here, and worrying about him - well, we're hurting.

To Love At All

“To love at all is to become vulnerable.



Love anything and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal.

Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safely in the casket or coffin of your selfishness.

But in that casket-safe, dark, motionless, airless space, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.

The alternative to tragedy, or at least to the risk of tragedy, is damnation. The only place outside Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell.”

- C.S. Lewis in The Four Loves

We just had a fright when Henley slipped on the kitchen tile floor and was unable to get enough traction to get up. So we worked to get him onto the rug under the kitchen table, and after a few minutes, he got up.

So far, he seems fine, but it got both of us to thinking - again - about just how much of our hearts are held captive by our friend Henley the Great Dane.

It's Actually Going To Happen Today

Yes, after weeks of intense research and negotiations with several dealers both new and used over three states, resulting in a massive waste of productivity...

at 5PM today we will take delivery of a 2006 Honda Element EX P AWD

...I hope :)

Henley is so excited. Of course he doesn't have to make the payments. ;)

We Pick it up tomorrow morning- Update - not yet

When you have a dog that's the size of a small horse, not just any vehicle will do. Once we made the decision to have Great Danes (Henley is our second) that meant we made other decisions too. Some of them are silly, like accepting leans and slobbers, or never being able to just come home without a celebration. But others made a bigger impact. We don't kennel dogs. We don't leave them with friends. They are family and we treat them that way.

So with Henley, and the Kia Sportage we have had, our vacations were limited by the question "who is staying with Henley?"

Not any more.

Now we can flip up the seats, throw in his dog bed and get the big boy in and down. The floors are even rubber so we can blow them out and not worry about slobbers. Just wipe them down. Very unique and very functional. We scored a lifetime warranty good all over the nation too, so I'm picking it up and expecting to still have it 15 years from now.

So expect to see the Wilson's on the move more often and packing Henley to boot!

* Update * Local Honda Dealer who had quoted us a price and interest rate changed that when we got 1.5 hours into picking up the vehicle. So thanks but no thanks, Gary Smith Honda. Next???

It's 4AM, Do You Know Where Your Great Dane Is?

That's a picture of Bunny and Henley the Great Dane from a couple of years ago. Henley is 42" tall and 155lbs.

Last night, at 4AM, I awoke to a small whining noise. I finally got the light on, and looked around the room - no Henley.

He was stuck UNDER the bed.

In an action I'll probably pay for later, I picked up the king sized bed and Bunny coaxed him out.

I'm still waiting for my explanation from Henley. :)