On the one year anniversary of losing the bestest dog in the whole world, I am reflecting on our life together with a smile. People would look at him and ask, what kind of dog is he? I'd always respond that he's about 15 different breeds and looks like a big old gateway computer box having a bad hair day. Georgie had hair going every which way. Some unkind people would say he wasn't the handsomest dog they had ever seen, but to me, Georgie was handsome and an old soul.
We met in 2001 in Cortez Colorado. A guy named J-Bear had a large storage unit where he was fostering pups. We followed up an ad for a pup who was part Chow I think and made the 100 mile trip to Cortez to meet him. The original pup wasn't for us, but there was George. I asked J-Bear what his story was. He told me someone had abandoned him in Toac on the Ute Reservation. Georgie was laying around in the sun, not paying much attention to anything. We were looking for a pup to go hiking and camping with. When we asked about Georgie (back then his name was Buddy), J-Bear told us that's all he did was lay around in the sun. Probably wouldn't make a good hiking dog he said. We didn't care. It was love at first sight. When I offered to pay for him, J-Bear turned me down. When I offered to at least give him a donation for dog food, he turned me down again. All J-Bear wanted was a good home for Georgie and he knew we were Georgie's people. We think George was about 2 years old when we became his people.
I believe critters will tell you what their name is. Buddy did not fit. On the 100 mile drive back to Blanding, my son and I bounced names around. At one point Ralph came up however I couldn't name a dog after my grandfather. Then we hit on George. He was the perfect George. George was always calm, and never used his voice. It took me almost a year to get him to eat people food. What dog doesn't like eggs and cheese mixed in their kibble? Georgie didn't know what to make of the good stuff. Once he figured it out though, I'd get the "look" and he always got the last bite of whatever I was eating. How can you turn down a face like that?
Every morning, Georgie and I would go for a hike in Westwater Canyon. We'd see mule deer and rabbits and lovely sunrises. I never needed to keep Georgie on the lead; we had the trail to ourselves and he would run 100 feet ahead, stop, look back to make sure I was still there, and turn around and keep going. There wasn't much grass in the desert, but the building I worked in was surrounded by grass, and that dog would roll around in the grass happy as a pig in dirt.
Georgie hiked the rocks with us at Chaco Canyon. Chaco Canyon is at the end of 25 miles of really bad road and we had gone to see the sun dagger for summer solstice. We couldn't see the dagger because the sky was filled with smoke from the fires outside of Durango Colorado, over 100 miles away. That night we camped. The wind came up and I swear we should have found ourselves in Kansas in the morning, it was so strong. It rained dirt and sand on us all night long. Georgie had the best seat in the house because we put him in the truck for the night. At least He got some sleep that night! J-Bear was wrong about George-he loved to hike and climb and run. Georgie became the VISTA mascot. Everyone loved him, especially me.
After my VISTA tour was over, we headed to Farmington New Mexico, where Georgie became the Downtown Dog. His picture was on almost every piece of promotional material I put out. He would come to work with me, in the office or during any of the many events I worked on while I was there. Everyone loved him.
George has ridden across the country and back with me twice. He loved to load up and go, just like his momma. George wasn't afraid of anything, or anybody. He was 85 lbs of puppy love and hair. He was allowed on any piece of furniture I had, but would not sleep on the bed with me. He would when I wasn't there though. I think he was just warming it up for me. Someone once told me George wouldn't sleep on the bed because he was my "first line of defense", protecting me should somone try to come into the house who didn't belong. George was a large dog with a larger heart and soul. I doubt he would bite anyone, but I also believe he would if he had to.
As we made our way to Montana in 2007, we stopped at a rest stop somewhere in Wyoming. A skeezy guy walked up to me, looked at George and asked does he bite? Only if he has to, I replied. The guy walked away. I believe George saved me from something bad that day.
Dogs are great judges of character. When we met Jeff, Georgie fell in love with him. I am not sure who loved the other more. Everytime Jeff would come home, Georgie would start his happy dance. Jeff would start his loving on Georgie routine, and I would sit back and smile. Love me, love my dog. I seemed to have competition for Jeff's affection with the dog but it didn't matter.
It gets cold in big sky country, and each winter seemed a bit harder on George. He loved the snow and his fur would catch ice balls after a walk. He loved his walks. When it did snow, George would bounce through the drifts and dig his nose ito the snow to find something interesting. The hair I would get off him when I brushed him would fill 2 plastic grocery bags. Georgie was known for his hair. It was everywhere. I would tell people who visit that they would leave with dog hair souveniers all over their clothes. There weren't many people who chose not to come to visit because of the dog hair.
As Georgie got older, his eyesight got worse, his hearing got worse and his teeth were not good. One day I was standing outside when the postman came by to deliver the mail. Georgie was standing right next to me, and the next thing I hear is "shit!" What?!? I asked the mail carrier. Your dog just bit me he said. What?? George has never bitten anyone and I was standing right there. George in fact did bit the postman. Thankfully he didn't break any skin, but it was a sign that he wasn't aware of who or what was going on around him. The mail carrier was such a great guy and I felt horrible about it. When I ran into him downtown a few days later, I apologized again, and he told me "just don't put him down" because of what he did. Put him down?? Are you kidding me? We were doing everything we could to keep the old man happy and healthy. I assured the mail carrier that would not happen.
As Georgie got older, the cold was harder for him to bear. His old joints were hurting and it stays cold for 9 months out here. Towards the end, I had him on some major pain medication. He had became incontinent and I would find him laying in his own poop. He didn't even know he had done it. Jeff and I talked for almost a year about what we should do. We knew what we had to do, but both of us wanted Georgie to make the decision for us. I had George with me every day and could see his health declining. Jeff was in denial. Then Jeff went on a fire for 2 weeks, and when he got home, he finally saw what I had been seeing. I was happy cleaning poop up just to keep that dog around for as long as possible, but at that point, it became a quality of life issue for Georgie. Would you want to sleep in your own poop and not be able to move around easily?
On a clear, Indian summer day in September, our vet, Dr. Lindsay, came to the house to help us help Georgie across the rainbow bridge. He was in my arms, in the grass he loved so much. We knew he would not make it through another harsh Montana winter. I picked at least 500lbs of river rock and we buried Georgie the Wonderdog at our friend Chuck's ranch, in the shadow of a juniper tree, with a view of the Absorkee Mountains.
A bunch of our friends were there as we buried the bestest dog in the whole world and began toasting his life with a bottle of Jack. Ok, I began toasting his life, and kept on toasting until the bottle was gone. I have never been so sick as I was the next day from what I swear was alcohol poisioning. At one point during the wake, I ended up on my butt on the kitchen floor, barely missing a sharp object with my head. All I remember is looking up seeing all these people peering down at me making sure I was still alive. I was, sort of.
The bestest dog in the whole wide world deserved a wake like that one. The bestest dog in the whole wide world will always remain in my heart and bring a smile to my face whenever I think of him. Animal's people are the lucky ones, even if it is only for a short time. Georgie the Wonderdog was at least 11 years old, if not 13 years old. He lived a good, long life in a family that adored him. We should all be so lucky.
God bless Georgie. I know he is running after bunnies or rolling around in the clover on the other side, hopefully waitng for me. The bestest dog in the whole wide world he was.
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