The two sides of his face are not unified, The left hand side is needy with a downturn suggesting continuous disappointment. The thin lips on the left-side twitch at the possibility of missing out, while the right mouth is aggressive and playful, free to rant and grasp hungrily at the world beneath a white-walled eye that sees everything as a sprinting game. Harry is abandoned on the left and wild with the Autumn wind riding over his thin body on the right – his fears emanate through the left, making him shake and stare wildly at the squirrels in Ruskin Park. When we wake in the morning the left-hand side of Harry wonders when we will leave him or deny him the scraps from breakfast, the right side wants contact and sensory excitements, swimming up the bed to greet us. The left side is always anticipating our withdrawal.
The two narratives of Harry’s life are written into his merle camouflage of grey and black. Harry’s head is a bony canvas of blotches and spots apparently dropped from some height onto the short fur, expressing his schisms. When Harry sleeps the left-hand side stays alert, looking for signs that we will leave him as he was left before, the right-hand sides sleeps deeply, dreaming of leaf-chases and squirrels in the autumn park.