Tindersticks Harry's Dilemma Lyrics:
Harry was a contented dog. But he awoke this
morning and something was very wrong. He couldn't
be bothered to beg for mid-morning biscuits. He
couldn't be bothered to roll over and rub his back
on the rough floor. He couldn't be bothered to
scratch at anything that might be nibbling away at
him. He just lay on top of his kennel feeling
thoroughly depressed. Even his tail wouldn't wag.
Four months earlier, his owner (an elderly
gentlemen whom Harry had been devoted to ever
since he was a puppy) had been temporarily forced
to leave the country, leaving Harry with a
trustworthy, caring couple who lived around the
corner. Things hadn't been so bad at first: long
walks, hearty dinners; even his kennel was in the
same spot in their yard -- just to the right of
the back door. This is the same kennel that Harry
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had now been moping on top of for three days.
Despite the best efforts of the young, caring
couple to cheer him up -- offers of chicken and an
endless stream of un-fetched balls sent rolling
down the yard -- nothing could coax Harry from his
gloom. So, it was decided to send him to the vet.
Harry was a large dog and heavy-withered, and he
was in no mood to climb down from his kennel and
trot to the waiting car to travel two miles to the
surgery. Eventually, he was lifted, with the aid
of a neighbor, onto a blanket and hobbled from
kennel to car; from the car to the vet's. When,
once, Harry would have put up a fight before going
within 500 yards of this place, during the whole
journey, he never raised an eyebrow. Of course,
the vet could find nothing wrong with Harry;
mentioned depression; suggested chicken and balls;
sent Harry home to rest, still wrapped in the
blanket. Took seven days for the notification to
come through. The owner had died in his sleep,
leaving specific instructions for Harry to be put
down. Harry was a dead dog.
Lyrics: Harry's Dilemma, Tindersticks [end]