HarlowCard 2025

I didn’t know if I’d have a HarlowCard this year, but Harlow shows no symptoms of the bladder cancer which supposedly will send her out of this life and off to hang out with my past dogs and my Uncle Billy and maybe Susan and John. If that’s a thing.

My cards over the years have been a very important project to me. They are a love letter to my dog and the people who receive them (click to enlarge and scroll through);

This year would be no different, except only that I knew it would be our last. What a strange and potentially privileged place to be. I don’t want to know when I’ll lose loved ones, human or otherwise, but I am grateful to have this time.

As per usual I wrung my hands to come up with an idea that was on par to all the past ones. The dog’s head through wrapping paper is trending online which made it unappealing to me, but still, I went for it. This time, considering the circumstances, I included myself.

I set up a little studio in my crafting room, hanging wrapping paper from a backdrop stand, carefully ripping the paper and taping it back. Harlow experiences these photo shoots every year. I strive to give her the best treats during them, and I focus on being as quick as possible. She doesn’t find it fun but she tolerates me.

This year as I was setting up, she ambled into the crafting room, emitting an aura of reluctant acceptance, made her way around the backdrop to its backside and, with resignation, stuck her head through the hole I made and looked at me as if to say “This is where you want me, right?”

I bought a remote which allowed me to take the photo of the two of us together. Above is the front and back of the final card (click to view), but I want to share about one moment in particular.

I trained Harlow not to lick faces, but she has also never been a snuggler. As a small puppy she would collapse in exhaustion by or on my lap from raising hell, but that’s not the same thing. She will visit for pats and some nice ear stitches and a butt rub, and then wander off. She doesn’t seem to be a very sentimental pup.

I maneuvered us awkwardly through the hole together, gently holding her in place, taking a break when she got restless. At one point I realized she was leaning her face into mine. She wasn’t falling asleep standing up, she wasn’t getting bored.

She was telling me she loves me. I would swear it. I am not one for anthropomorphizing, but I was sure she was telling me that she knew this was the last one.