Henry, I’ll Miss You

Henry passed away last night.

For the past few years, Henry was a familiar part of my life. He usually stood outside the same house, and whenever I passed by, he seemed to recognize me. Most of the time, he was already waiting for food.

Henry wasn’t really a stray. He belonged to a local family, and I often talked to the old man who owned him. But like so many dogs here, he spent his days out on the street, and nobody really looked after him.

Whenever I could, I fed him. And on the days when I didn’t have anything with me, I would tell him over and over, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” promising him that I would bring something the next time. I always felt terrible seeing the hope in his eyes when I had nothing to give him. But I was also always happy to see him.

That’s why I became so worried when he suddenly disappeared. His usual spot remained empty for days, and I had no idea what had happened to him. When I finally saw him again, almost two weeks later, I was incredibly relieved. But that feeling quickly turned into worry when I saw his condition. He was extremely thin, weak, and struggling to walk.

I had wanted to bring Henry to a vet for a long time, but he had always been difficult to approach because of his fear of people. This time, I finally managed to get him the medical help he needed. I really hoped things would get better for him.

His Last Days

Henry spent the last ten days of his life at the vet clinic. His blood tests showed severe anemia, and he tested positive for Babesia gibsoni, a tick-borne parasite that attacks red blood cells and can cause serious complications. His liver and kidneys were also in poor condition, making his situation even more difficult.

The vets treated him with medication, IV fluids, and supportive care. Over the following days, I kept hoping that his body would slowly recover. But unfortunately, his condition remained critical.

During the night, I received a message from the clinic saying that Henry’s condition had suddenly gotten worse. His body temperature was dropping, he could no longer stand, and he was barely responding to treatment. The vets also noticed very dark diarrhea, which they suspected could be a sign of bleeding in his digestive tract.

A little later, another message arrived. Henry had passed away.

I Wish I Could Have Given Him More

It’s hard not to think about what I could have done differently. I wish I had managed to bring him to the clinic earlier. I wish I had found him sooner when he disappeared. And I wish he had been strong enough to recover.

More than anything, I wish I could have given him a few good years away from the streets. A safe place to sleep, proper meals every day, and a life where he wouldn’t have to wait outside a house hoping that someone might bring him food.

I had really hoped that bringing him to the clinic would be the beginning of that life. Instead, those ten days turned out to be his last.

It’s something I see again and again here. People are happy to have a dog around as long as he’s healthy. But as soon as he gets sick, nobody wants to be responsible for him. And it’s not always because they don’t have the money. Often they just don’t see why they should spend it on a dog. Without help, Henry would probably have collapsed somewhere on the street and died there alone.

At least he was no longer alone on the street. He had a safe place to rest, food, medical care, and people looking after him. I know that doesn’t change what happened, but it gives me a little comfort.

Henry’s Vet Bill

Even though Henry is no longer with us, the costs of his treatment remain. His final vet bill came to 7,274,000 IDR, even after the clinic kindly gave us discounts totaling 2,019,000 IDR. The bill covers ten days at the clinic, blood tests, PCR testing, medication, IV fluids, and other treatments.

I’m really grateful to the vets for taking care of Henry and doing everything they could to help him. Unfortunately, we’re now left with a pretty high vet bill, even though Henry didn’t make it. If you would like to help us cover the costs of Henry’s treatment, any donation would mean a lot.

Goodbye, Henry

For years, Henry was simply there. Standing outside that same house, waiting patiently, recognizing me whenever I passed by. It was such a small part of my everyday life, but it meant something to me.

And now, knowing that I will never see him standing there again is incredibly sad. I will miss his hopeful eyes. I will miss stopping to feed him. And I will miss the simple happiness of seeing that he was still there and doing okay.

I really wish his story had ended differently.

Rest easy, Henry. I’m going to miss you.