Harrington Woody

Today's grateful letter is H. So logically, I'm grateful for Harry, my sweet Old English Sheepdog. The omega dog who was tragically abused by some rednecks in South Dakota until he was 1. The one who we were told would live an extremely short life because he has a hole in his heart (he'll be 8 in January). The one we were told would be such a project because of his background. Yeah, I'm talking about the dog who now considers himself abused if he doesn't get to run in the park for a sufficient amount of time that day, or has his breakfast fed to him at 6:05 instead of 6:00, or has to wake up from his nap on the couch to take his dogwalker for a walk, or has to go in for yet another blueberry facial after he gets particularly piggy at the dogpark that day. Harry reminds me daily the power of love and how it can transform your life.