Poodle Henry Franklin Hargrove
April 22, 2004 – July 24, 2017
We are heartbroken to say goodbye to Poodle Henry. Words cannot describe the joy he brought to our lives. It was an honor to live with such a grand being.
He left this life adorned in flowers from the Indian Temple at Kalachandji’s in East Dallas. Holy dust from the Holiest Site in India was placed on his head. Holy water from another site in India and Tulsi Leaves were placed in his mouth. His body was sprinkled with Frankincense Oil.
He was very robust, but in the last three weeks his body was ravaged by a sudden, aggressive intestinal lymphoma.
He had quite a life. He ran on the red dirt road at the farm, upstaged models on the runway at Neiman Marcus, posed with people at my toy signing events, knew his right from his left, not once did he ever potty in the house…not once, and was an all around good guy.
Mac and I are fortunate that he serendipitously happened into our lives thirteen years ago. We will talk about him for the remainder of our lives.
When cell phones developed good cameras, Henry’s life became a photo journal. He was fabulously photogenic…and if I see you, I apologize now for wearing you out with stories about a very grand poodle I once knew.
A Poodle, A Santa and An Angel.
A very pointed profile. (Photo taken by Mike)
Poodle Henry came to us from Janet and Allen Kingsley and Luann Wilkinson when he was four-months-old. I had always been fond of standard poodles because customers would bring their poodles to see me at Neiman Marcus toy signings. We decided a standard poodle was the closest thing we could come to for a child. For thirteen-and-a half-years Henry was the best child anyone could ask for.
Daily as I reached for his leash, I would say to him, “Come on Lovey, let’s go.”
ADDITION….Two Days Later, on Wednesday Evening July 26, Mac and I were having dinner on the outside patio of The Leaning Pear in Wimberley, Texas. We were weepy and talking about Henry. We look up, and with few clouds and no rain, a Double Rainbow was directly beside us. Other diners were coming out taking photos, and oohing and aahing. We looked at each other, and without saying a word knew our boy did that for us. He’s good, and we need to stop crying.
Also published on Medium.