Two weeks ago we said goodbye to our beautiful , loving, languid, lurcher Harry. A terrible decision, but the right one. He was fourteen and a half, he was old and tired and deaf ,and couldn’t walk properly anymore. Many tears have been shed.
He was born in Norfolk on a farm, and came to us at eleven weeks, so he grew up running on the vast , wide sands of the North Norfolk beaches, and chasing through Holkham woods, near to where we lived . He couldn’t really cope with grass, as he had rarely seen it, but loved digging holes in the sand, and running and running. He hated rain, the cold , water-even the sound of it, and thunderstorms.
So when , before we moved here permanently, we started to spend longer periods of time here at our house in Maro, he adapted readily. He was a dream in the car, and the ferry -not batting an eyelid at being cooped up in a large kennel on the ferry to Santander for twenty four hours.
He was friendly to anyone who was friendly to him, and he never barked. He was the biggest thief ever, if there was any food left too near the edge of a kitchen bench, and he stole -amongst other delicacies over the years- a pan of milk, a bowl of prawns, a whole smoked mackerel, biscuits, salmon and so on. He loved a morsel ( well a whole packet), of jamon de serrano, and was partial to tuna and any fish really.
He loved jumping on the sofa , stretching out and sleeping , and he jumped off when he heard us come home…
He stayed in many hotels on our journeying through the vast country that is Spain, curling up in his bed in Burgos, Toledo, Caceres, Salamanca, Trujillo, Sanlucar de Barrameda, Cordoba, Avila, Javea, and Zaragoza.
When we moved here, he was driven from England, through France to Spain ,by a wonderful dog courier company, and he ran into the house to his water bowl in the kitchen, even though he hadn’t been here for a year.
He always came with us on our much loved visits to Isleta del Moro in Cabo de Gata. He loved the sun, a beach ,( curling up under the umbrella), and until recently would run down to the bar in the village and sit next to anyone who was eating-hoping for a scrap or two. He sat at kitchen doors in bars -where kindly staff had given him treats before. He never forgot.
He loved his walks in the campo with Andrew, and we were so pleased he was able to have a few years here in Spain with us.
Harry was a character and a gentle soul. We loved him very much, as did everyone who met him, and he was always our `puppy`.
Last Sunday was the first time we had been to lunch at La Herradura without him ,and it was very sad. We miss him so much .
Adios mi amigo.
White painted walls and avocados. Tales from Maro in southern Spain. 
Lovely words. He was lucky to have you both and have such a wonderful life. We so understand your heartache. Treasured memories x
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Thankyou, I know you do x
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I’m sure that he lived a very happy and contented life. Its a grand age for a dog, I know the feelings only too well from loosing a canine friend and companion. So sorry for you.
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I have yet another tear in my eye. Lovely
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