Henri

Henri is more than a Friend, he is family - to us he's not like a family member but is one. We gave him to our daughter Catherine two years after my father passed. They were so close and it seemed fitting to continue his memory with someone so equally dear Henri leaps for joy at the rustle of leaves, bounds across the hills and dales at Breze like an Elk; grinning from ear to ear. He hides under Catherine's arm at the smallest clap of thunder and whimpers at the crash of lightening making us howl with laughter. He howls hello when Catherine comes home from the office warming her heart like a comfy bowl of soup in the chill of winter. He hogs too much room on the bed, demands too much attention in the middle of your favorite show, and always wants something to eat. He's happiest when he's chewing on his favorite toy Mr. Rubberhead but gladly relinquishes it to anyone who walks in the room. In every way he is the perfect Dog but he's actually not a dog at all; he's our son, Catherine's brother, and the best friend any of us is ever likely to know.