The Things I Loved (Part 2)
This post is the second in a series of entries that record some of the traits about Harold that I love and miss. I never want to forget these quirks, so putting them down here is a way to be able to always come back and reflect on the things that made our little man uniquely Harold.
Harold was the absolute happiest when the family was all together. Whether we were going for a stroll or simply lounging on the couch, the man was in his zone all his peeps were around. He would pull out his elk antlers (celebratory cigars as we called them) when the group was together. That extra pep in his step was on full display. He tried to remind me over and over (even though I didn’t always listen) that the only thing that really matters is being together. “It’s not that complex you big dummy” is what I felt he was saying. I’m still listening little buddy. And learning.
The little man loved a good sock attack. My brother, Grant, reminded me of his affinity as a pup to grab any rogue socks that hit the floor and take off to the races. It was a game he could carry on for quite a while, and he excelled at it. “Catch me if you can, sucker. And even if you do, I’m just finding another sock.” If you didn’t notice he took your sock, he would find a good corner to annihilate the evidence. We went through a lot of socks those first couple years with Harold.
Harold had a desire to make absolutely everyone his friend. No matter where we were, he would quickly greet those happy to see him but then really hone in on the person or animal least interested in him and put all his focus in turning that tide. I think this is due to the fact that he had pure joy in his heart and was only capable of seeing joy in others. More often than not, he would win them over. People who aren’t dog people have gone out of their way to tell us of their affinity for Harold since he passed. But maybe his best singular accomplishment was winning over he heart of my in-laws’ Scottish Terrier, Briony McTavish. As you might be able to tell from the name, she didn’t have the temperament for noisy, obnoxious dogs, and despised all males that weren’t my father in-law, Ron. Briony was a lifelong experiment but they eventually became best friends in their later years together. Kudos little buddy.
You could tell Harold was content and at ease when he did a subtle smacking of his lips. It was usually just twice and barely noticeable, but I loved this sound. This usually meant he was leaning into a nap or simply at peace and in a good state of mind. I knew he felt safe.
