King Henry’s Court

Honestly, my dog was having a lot of trouble. In life. At home. In the yard. On the street. In school. My dog could not keep it together. It barked, and sort of just sulked around town. Dog walkers from other organizations remarked on it. It’s difficult to describe the difficulty of this, the sort of weight it put on me. Can you imagine loving a creature, an innocent little thing, and just watching it suffer under an existential dread that it can’t understand or even conceive of? That was my dog. And I know what the walkers I hired thought of me. They’d return my depressed pup and just give me the stink eye, like «Hey man, dog’s aren’t just sad, I know this is on you,» but I swear it wasn’t! I fed and loved and pet and never yelled! I held and snuggled and always spoke with genuine love and affection, but my dog still lumbered off slowly into the corner, practically bumping into the wall before slumping silently into the only place it didn’t have to face the world — his dreams.
But then I hired King Henry. What a difference. First off, King Henry didn’t judge me. King Henry helped me problem solve. And King Henry took my dog on walks that really turned him around. He’d come back from his jaunt through the neighborhood energized and refreshed. Was it the other dogs? Was it King Henry’s voice? I can’t say the secret, but I do know that I’m forever thankful. King Henry saved my marriage and my dog. I’m proud to say that my little pup got a scholarship to study at school in Boston, and is on track for a medical degree.
Thanks King Henry. For everything.