Born: 2011?

Left our world: 2025

Likes: to be the boss, securing the perimeter, snuggles (on his schedule, because he is the boss, you know), barking

Dislikes: Being told what to do, not being the boss

Here’s what I know about Harper’s life.

My mom wanted to adopt another Maltese dog after Gabriel (tiny satan) died. I was helping in her search so she didn’t go to a breeder. Adopt! I received a notification of a Maltese mix at the animal adoption center.

He was a stray they picked up traveling with another dog. We initally went to see the other dog but he had been adopted already. So we met Cotton. He was adorable even with such a pronounced underbite. A decision was made to bring him home. But he couldn’t come with us. He needed to be neutered first.

So when we went home that day, I asked mom what she wanted to call him. She said she didn’t know so I made her a list of options. Included on the list was Harper. She chose that one because it’s the name of her favorite author.

When I went to pick up little Harper I put him in the back seat behind the mesh separator that is supposed to keep the dogs in the back. That little punk scaled that separator and dropped into the driver’s seat. He rode in my lap the whole time.

We took him to the vet for an initial visit. The vet noticed almost all of his teeth were bad so we had them pulled. He still had some left.

He lived with mom for a bit. Then when she moved in with me and my ex-wife, Harper moved in too. He tried desperately to be the alpha but it didn’t take. Then mom moved to assisted living for a little bit. Harper went with her, but after a while we were asked to take him home. He would cry and cry when mom went to meals and activities. So we took him back to the house for him to live with us. He still tried to be the boss.

Then I moved to the ranch for a few months. Me and all of the dogs were cramped in a small house. The doggie door was too heavy for his little body to push through, and when he tried to follow someone else outside, the doggie door would bounce back and knock him over. Beth also noticed that the girls wouldn’t let Harper eat. I told her I didn’t know what to do. She agreed to take Harper to her house to stay with them for a bit.

As it turns out, the Crowe family was not a fan of the little guy. He was grumpy and bitey and peed everywhere. He tried to boss the family Chihuahua, Dobby. And Dobby was so sweet about it.

Then I moved in with the Crowes and Harper had his person again. Not saying he started behaving better, but at least he could be comforted.

Time went on, and we became a family.

Over time, though, Harper’s health got worse. He developed cataracts, lost hearing, became incontinent, and developed doggie dementia. He got his days and nights confused because of the dementia and the blindness. He would be up all night, checking the house’s perimeter, but was also lonely because everyone was asleep.

During the last few months, our kids built someone to stay up with him. Teresa. She comforted him. There was always someone with him. And she smelled like me (we used my clothes). But she never let him outside when he barked at her.

We decided, after many tears, that it was time to let him go. We were there with him as he slipped away. I kept telling him he was a good boy, which we all knew wasn’t true. He went peacefully. And loved. So very loved.