Hello, world. It’s been one hell of a week. I’ve found it hard to write here about trivial matters such as what awesomely bad film I’ve discovered or the thoughts I’ve had in traffic, writing or food, while so many people are risking their lives to fight for justice in Iran. When basic human rights are stripped from you, nothing else seems to matter, and although I haven’t been in Iran since I was 2-years-old, I have my eyes and ears on every single piece of information coming out of there. I didn’t grow up in Tehran, but my parents did and my grandparents before them, and it still feels like home.

But I digress. Enough of that for now. I have commentary to post and things to write, but for now, I need happy thoughts , most of which come in the form of Henry the Maltese.

Look at this dog. Have you seen a funnier one? He perches himself on top of the stairs I’ve put for him to get to my bed. How he contorts his body to fit on such a small space is beyond me.

This a dog who loves his toys like a small child, one who parks at people on the street during a car ride, but cries after them when we drive away. This dog is scared of the pool, but not of dogs four times his weight. He’s the dog that loves the feeling after a bath, but hides under the bed in hopes of avoiding one.

This dog will claw at you endlessly until you lift him and put him on the dining room chair next to you – God forbid he be left out.

This is a dog who loves vegetables, from the lettuce he begs for, shreds and then eats, to the green bell peppers and cauliflower he likes to crunch on. Mostly, this little dog makes me happy, even when I’m upset about situations I cannot help halfway across the world.

Are you upset little friend? Have you been lying awake worrying? Well, don’t worry…I’m here. The flood waters will recede, the famine will end, the sun will shine tomorrow, and I will always be here to take care of you. -Charlie Brown to Snoopy

Henry has spent the better part of this week snuggled as close to me as physically possible. Usually, he’ll sleep on the edge of the bed, wrapped up in his brown plaid blanket. He’s really good about sleeping through the night and doesn’t get up until my feet touch the ground, but I find him almost wrapped in my arms when I wake up.

Words do not do the feeling of waking up with a warm dog next to you justice. There are few pleasures greater than a friendly and loving lick in the morning or a black snout buried within the confines of your arm. He doesn’t need to be by me, after all- his puppies day are behind him and he’s already 2-years-old in human years, but he wants to be.

I stroke his belly and pat his head and he settles into a ball for the rest of the night. Sometimes, I wake to find him sprawled out on his back, his legs are far apart as can be and his front paws so close to his chest that he looks like a little otter. He feels at ease, relaxed and without a care in the world. It is in these instances where I am truly jealous of the life Henry leads.

He has no work to worry about, no social life, no bills, no traffic. His only concerns involve him securing the parameters of the house, perfecting his Academy award winning begging routine and resting after a day’s hard work of scaring away imaginary invaders.

At night, he turns almost human. The shapes in which he sleeps in, the content noises he makes when he’s come into an agreement with a space in which to lay his head and the way he rubs his eyes with his paws first thing in the morning, turn him into my little child instead of my little dog.

And that’s one child I’ll happily accept at this point in my life.

After two horribly dreadful days of being without him, my little lamb, Henry the Maltese came home today. About nine months ago, Henry underwent luxating patella surgery to correct both his knees. I documented his entire recovery process here in an effort to provide that information to someone who might be as nervous and scared as I was and ended up meeting many dog owners who were going through the same thing, especially Laura and her Maltese Rocky from Florida (Hi Laura!)

I had taken him to the vet on Saturday because I had slowly began noticing that when he was turning sharp corners while running (which was always), he would lift his right foot up, just the way he did before his knee caps were aligned correctly with pins. I would also occasionally catch him licking at his knee, so I knew something wasn’t right. His physical therapist had told me earlier that licking is a sign of pain, so I booked him an appointment at the vet so that they could take a closer look.

They suspected it was the pin that was bothering him and instructed me to bring him in on Monday so the orthopedic surgeon who did his surgery could take a look. On top of that, he had about four baby teeth (which I later found out was six) that needed to be removed and he hadn’t received vaccines in well over a year, so it was decided to kill three birds with one stone and do all procedures in one go. He was meant to come home Monday, but the surgeon had an emergency surgery so Henry ended up staying the night at the hospital, so the surgeon could take a look first thing in the morning.

Monday night was one of the worst nights I had had in a long time. It’s amazing how empty the house becomes when your pets aren’t there. You don’t realize how much you love them and how much of an integral part of your life they are until they’re gone. I didn’t know what to do with myself that night and Jason Mesnick also known as the worst Bachelor of ALL time wasn’t helping things either.

But I digress. I woke up Tuesday excited at the prospect of picking Henry up. I even packed away his toy and a blanket in the car, but as I had left work early and already driven half way there, I got a call from the vet alerting me that the surgeon was going to be late, so he would have to spend another night and he would be ready for pick up the next day.

Needless to say, I was gutted. One day was enough, I didn’t know how I was going to survive one more day without him. I was restless, anxious and over analytical the entire night. If I was getting this worked up over my dog, I thought to myself, I really didn’t want to know what it was like to watch your own children go through such things.

Today, after two hours in traffic from Santa Monica to Pasadena, a lot of stress, six pulled baby teeth, four stitches, a shaved leg and one daunting vet bill later, Henry is home again. He’s a bit drugged out and tired, but doing well all the same. He can walk, which is great and I’m hoping his leg will be as good as new going forward.

When I brought him home and put him down, he drank what seemed like a gallon of water and then went straight to pee. He quenched his thirst, emptied his bladder, ate some boiled and shredded chicken and had a nice rest in my lap the entire night.

If your dog has had luxating patella surgery, and you begin to notice behaviors such as the one Henry had, it’s a good idea to book a follow up appointment with your vet. A simple procedure can make a lot of difference. As far as I can tell, Henry is in minimal pain and he’s taking it quite well. Sometimes, we tend to forget how resilient animals are and how resilient we are when faced with adversity.

Pets not only give us joy on a day to day basis, they teach us so much about ourselves. They teach us to be selfless, to be loving, to be responsible, they teach us the most basic of human emotions: compassion. In many ways, it is the way you treat animals, not humans, that reveals who you are. After all, it was Milan Kundera, one of my favorite authors who said “mankind’s true moral test, its fundamental test (which lies deeply from view), consists of its attitude towards those who are at its mercy: animals.” Henry has managed to teach me so much about myself. There were times in my life when I cringed at the thought of having to take care of something or someone other than me. Henry has taught me that taking care of either animal or human is a truly rewarding and humbling experience and I couldn’t ask for a better little lamb.

Two nights ago, I gathered my things from the living room, including Henry the Maltese and went to bed, like I do every night. I had just settled in under my sheets and was planning on doing some reading, when I looked over to find that Henry was not on his usual spot on my bed. I looked around the room without getting up and I couldn’t spot him anywhere. I knew he couldn’t have gone out, as the door was locked, so I decided to look under the bed. Even though it’s one of his favorite spots, he wasn’t there either. I started to call out his name and got up, but soon enough my panic had melted into uncontrollable fits of laughter, as I saw that he had climbed into my knitting basket that was full of yarn and decided to perch on it indefinitely.

Naturally, I had to get out the camera and snap a photo of my dog-hen before he decided that nesting time was over.

I couldn’t contain my laughter. I sat there wondering what has possessed him to climb into that basket. He wouldn’t even budge when I tried to move him.

His shenanigans were just another reminder of how much he brightens my day and brings the utmost joy to my life. There are days when I can’t remember what life was like before him. How on Earth did I live for 22 years and not have him with me? It’s inconceivable.

The way he goes mental when I come home, how he licks my tears when I cry, the invisible intruders he barks at on his nightly patrol of the house and the persistent way he scratches at my legs, as if to say “lift me in your arms, now,” these are all moments that I am always going to remember. I can’t bear to think of my life without him, even though the reality is, that that time will come.

But let’s not talk about that now.

Today, Henry the Maltese turns 2-years-old. Two years ago, I drove out to Hemet, Calif., to see a litter of Maltese puppies. It was just him and his brother left. They were both placed in my arms. His brother was sweet yet docile. Henry began to gnaw at my fingers immediately. That’s when I knew that it was meant to be. I drove back two months later and brought him home, where he proceeded to take a nice long piss on my mother’s treasured Persian rug. Oh well.

There is so much to say about Henry. He’s only 6 lbs, but he has more heart than I ever could have imagined. He is fiercely protective of his toys and nothing makes him happier than getting a new one. He loves eating pepper and blueberries and runs circles around the dining room table when he’s excited. When you’re sad, he’s sad. When you’re happy, he’s happy. He wont even think about leaving your side if you’re having a bad day, sacrificing food and water to keep you company.

Last summer, Henry had to have surgery for luxated patellas on both of his knees, which I documented on this site. For such a little dog, he’s been through a lot. He spent almost two months holed up in his crate, with wrappings and stitches and an Elizabethan collar which I detest so much. But he pulled through and although it was difficult for him, it was one of the hardest experiences I went through in my life. It was in those moments of his pain, that I realized what it was like to have and care for children.

Henry is everything I’ve ever wanted and more. I hope you have a good birthday King Henry, I’ll have new toys and a tea saucer full of green bell peppers waiting for you.

Hugo is my boyfriend’s dog and the inspiration for getting Henry. He’s the original Maltese in our circle and is about 3-years-old. He spends his days perched on the couch, people watching by the window and barking at unsavoury characters. He loves liver treats, strolls in the park and holiday sweaters. It’s my dream that Hugo from London and Henry from Los Angeles will one day meet.

When Henry the Maltese decided to wake up at 2 a.m. and stand in front of the bedroom door, patiently waiting for me to open it, I knew there was a problem. Usually if he gets up at an odd time, it’s to crawl under the bed in an effort to find cooler space, or sniff out some socks to chew on. I stumbled out of bed and opened the door and watched him head straight for his pad in the kitchen. I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, and before I knew it, Henry was spinning in circles like a mad man, arching his back and probably feeling horrible that he was having a big bout of explosive diarrhea.

After I cleaned him up, wrapped him in a towel and went back to bed, I knew it wasn’t the end of the Diarrhea Night of Hell. I opened all the windows in the kitchen, knowing full well that if that putrid smell was not allowed to exit the building, it would surely kill a 200 lb. man.

By 6 a.m, I had let him go about his business and washed him about three times. When 7 a.m. rolled around, I contemplated whether or not I should make the trek to work.

Somehow I pulled strength from somewhere and got up to get dressed. I had barely made my way to the bathroom when I heard something that sounded like faint fireworks exploding in the living room. When I got to Henry, he was crouched over, no doubt in pain from whatever had just shot out of his ass. It was clear we were not celebrating ANYTHING.

The rest of my day was spent nursing him back to health. In more ways than you know, I needed a day off, and perhaps Henry answered my prayers by deciding to keep me up all night and day so that I could wipe his bum and try not to throw up at the same time.

As the day progressed, he sat in my lap, where he is right now, seeking warmth and comfort from me. Occasionally, he’d raise his head, look at me with those big brown eyes and let out a tiny whine. Tucking his snout under my arm, he went to sleep, only waking up if he heard a threatening sound. It’s in these moments, that I realize that I need him just as much as he needs me. The cleaning, the wiping, the worrying, the taking time off work, it’s all worth it, when at the most unexpected moment, he pops his head up just to lick my hand, as if he’s saying “thank you.” No Henry, thank you.

He couldn’t get up as the early as rest of us, so he snuck out to his local polling center at PetSmart down the street and cast his vote. I tried to get him to tell me who he voted for, but he wasn’t having it. However, I think it’s safe to saw he went for Baruff Obama and not John McClaw.

This morning after eating breakfast, I decided to come and make my bed, when all of a sudden, a little monster named Henry just wouldn’t let me. He hopped up his mini stairs and began chasing my hands around as I was trying to straighten out the quilt cover. He was not only nipping me, but growling as well. I wanted to shout, “The power of Christ compels you!” in my best Dr. Evil voice. He had gone nuts. I continued about trying to get my job done, while this 6lb white gorilla kept gnawing on my hands. There were times when he would stop biting and spin around like dervish, until I relented and moved around to the other side of the bed.

And then, in an uncharacteristic move, I put my hands behind me, thinking I had outsmarted him. He looked up, blinked at me twice and before I knew it, he had jumped up and taken a nip at my breast! My right one to be exact. I scowled in pain between my fit of laughter and checked under my shirt to see if there was bleeding involved. Thankfully, I got out unscathed. Henry, shame on you. I guess it’s safe to say Henry is definitely not a fan of the behind.

Yes yes, I know. Christmas is at least three months away, but it looks like one of Santa’s elves has come out to play…

Henry tried on some pyjamas last night, as you can tell. A lot of people might get the impression that dressing dogs is silly and while for the most part, I whole heartedly agree, you have to take into consideration that small dogs, especially Maltese, because they don’t have an undercoat, get cold. So here he is, getting ready for the holiday season that is ever so quickly creeping up on us.