Henry

In the midst of a very happy few days for our family, we've had some heartbreak as well. Our beloved black lab, Henry, passed away in his sleep the other night.

Hank had been a member of our family for 11 years, and we're all sort of at a loss for what to do without him. Here's the thing about dogs: they can absolutely change your life, but they do it in such an unassuming way that it's sometimes hard to notice at the time. Henry was in our midst for graduations, marriages, deaths, births...providing a source of constancy and love in the form of a quirky plush toy. He was rarely the center of attention, but he's laying by the tree in Christmas pictures, standing by us while we do our makeup in Clara's wedding pictures, in videos we took the first night we brought Darcy home, in his spot on the kitchen rug in funny documented moments of normal life for years and years.

He brought us so much joy simply by being himself: the distinguished manner in which he'd cross his front paws, the way he'd get distressed if he didn't have a toy to present to you, how he'd come trotting from the other side of the house if he smelled carrots or bananas in the kitchen, how he'd lay by the piano and sing while we played, how he'd fetch his leash for a walk if he saw Mom changing into tennis shoes. And he had legions of fans. I was always struck by the fact that my friends seemed as loyal to him as to their own - to know him was to love him.

Thanks for being the best dog in the world, Henry-boy. We love you and miss you.