I'm not sure how this is even remotely comfortable. But Harry is an old man - 17 years and counting - so he can do whatever the hell makes him happy. He may not walk as well as he used to. Nor see, or hear much of anything. And from what I've been hearing, he now growls like a mother-fucker at the dog walker who has the audacity to wake up him and take him off his throne. But he does still possess a stellar sense of smell. And if I could capture the very amusing sight of him with his snout up in the air, sniffing and salivating for something even remotely edible (his all time favorite being red licorice - go figure) I would. But this is the position he's in most of the time these days.
I've had Harry since he showed up on my doorstep 16 years ago while living in Los Angeles. He found the sucker on the block - and he's been with me ever since. Just when I think his days are numbered, like suffering an odd stroke in January, he seems to bounce back. Even thought about planning the Friends of Harry going away party... but he continues to surprise. The dog's got heart - or likes his life way too much to give in.
Surprisingly the expression it's a dog's life (clearly liking the dog idioms today) refers to a miserable and unhappy existence. Somehow I always thought it meant the opposite. A life centered around food & sleep, what's not to like? For Harry though, aside from bumping into walls once in a while & not being able to jump on the sofa anymore, I think this old dog has had it pretty damn good. And in his finer, more lively moments, still does.
Everyone says you'll know when they're "ready to go." I imagine that's true. But sometimes his feebleness really does break my heart. I'm just hoping he's happy until then - even in the most awkward of positions.