![]() Her home was a traditional ranch house - modestly appointed and of no particular architectural note - but with a pretty paddock and stables for half a dozen horses at the foot of the driveway. On the day of our appointment, Henry was dressed in a pale, soft cardigan. Patrick stood up to greet me and permitted me to pat him and scratch his ears. (Standards are at the tall end of the poodle spectrum.) "He's nice to walk over," she said. He looked like a large, curly-haired, black colt. ![]() Patrick had lain down on his side on the floor near us. (She handed in the manuscript shortly before she died.) "But I thought it would be nice if we got acquainted. "I made a promise and I want to keep it," she said of her obligation to her publisher. Henry didn't have time just then for a full interview, she told me, because she had to finish a book about her standard poodle, Patrick Henry, which would bring her published works to a total of some 60 titles. She had agreed to discuss the possibility of my writing a profile of her. ![]() Henry and I met for the first and last time in the fall of 1995 at her home in Rancho Santa Fe. San Diego When Marguerite Henry died last month at the age of 95, a relationship that began for me more than 35 years ago came to a premature end. ![]()
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