Legacy in Fur and Fury: Heff…

Tonight, I’m sitting here with Heff.

Heff is my late mother’s dog. He is now blind, diabetic and, let’s be honest, an honorary bastard of the highest order. A story in himself. He’s the kind of creature who, if he could talk, would tell you to get your hands off him, turn off the light and bring him his dinner exactly how he likes it. And don’t even think about trying to hug him. He loathes affection. Tolerates me. Depends on me. Might even love me in that gruff, reluctant way some old men do – like they were tricked into it.

My mother wasn’t big on hugs either. You could hand her a bouquet of wildflowers and get a nod of approval at best. Sentiment made her nervous. And Heff? Well, he absorbed that vibe like a sponge. Somehow, the dog inherited her emotional blueprint—guarded, grumbly, no time for nonsense.

Which has me wondering:
Do pets inherit their owners’ qualities? Or do they just marinate in our emotional soup until they taste like us?

But here’s the thing: Heff is my best buddy now. Truly. I’d be lost without him. The night of my mother’s funeral, he curled up at the bottom of my bed and he’s slept there every night since. Like he chose his next person and that was that. He loved her – dearly. When she died, he howled like a baby. It was raw, heart-wrenching and honestly one of the hardest sounds I’ve ever heard.

So yes, he’s an ornery little fella. He hates hugs, grumbles at kisses, and gives side-eye like it’s an Olympic sport. But he’s mine now. And I’m his.

We’ve come to an understanding. He doesn’t bite when I kiss the top of his head, and I don’t take it personally when he glares at me like I just farted on the carpet.

It’s love, of a kind.

Not the Hallmark version, but the inherited, battered, prickly kind. The kind that limps along, a little blind, a little bitter but still loyal. Still here.

Heff: the final, furry echo of my mother’s spirit.
And probably the only part of the inheritance that actually needs me.

Lesson of the Day:

They Depend on Us, Even When They Don’t Show It.

Pets may not always show love the way we expect it. Some will wag, snuggle, and slobber. Others, like Heff, might glare, grumble and side-eye your every move. But make no mistake: they depend on us – with quiet trust, daily rituals, and more loyalty than most humans muster.

We are their whole world. Their food, their safety, their warmth, their comfort when grief rolls in. When a pet follows you from room to room, it’s not always love – it’s instinct, security, the deepest kind of knowing: You are their anchor.

And in return, they become ours. So today’s reminder is this: Even the grumpy ones, the ones who sleep at the foot of the bed with cloudy eyes and tired joints, are telling you something every single day – ‘You’re all I’ve got. And I trust you’. That’s not just dependence. That’s love.