Fred and I are asking you yet again (five plus years now) to please not call up to or respond to Henry.
It's a teasing gesture, if not entirely cruel.
Imagine, if you will—and I know you can imagine: it's that thing you do when you think everyone is out to get you; or that thing you do when you think people are interested on hearing your theories about how the holocaust wasn't faked; or that thing you do when you think your roommates will live with you for more than a year—imagine Henry's frustration at hearing someone calling his name and his inability to, say, peek or wave out the window or use a key and unlock the door, eagerly run down the stairs hoping to get a nice pat on the back (if only to recoil in horror at the last moment when he sees a bloated clown bearing down on him like some Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade balloon gone rogue.)
That would be like finding yourself sober and me dangling the world's last bottle of Fetzer Chardonnay just out of grasp of your shaky hands.
Unfortunately, Henry, smart as he may be, doesn't have the mental faculties to process how harmful your apparent unkindness is to his health and emotional stability. But, then again, he sometimes eats his own vomit.
Consider this, please, next time you're so inclined to torture a dog who knows no recourse but to grow increasingly agitated and upset. While you may find disembodied voices normal, I can promise you Henry finds it disturbing. It's base and contemptible and he deserves better than to continually and undeservedly suffer your inhumane taunts.
With your cooperation and a modicum of compassion, we're confident Henry can live a long, happy life free from unnecessary, misguided stresses.
The ball's in your court.
Scot & Fred