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A Tribute to George

George was our first failed foster dog - a big brindle boy who was always passed over for smaller and younger dogs. He was part of our family for five years and 2 months before we lost him suddenly to a massive stroke on Thursday 5^th August 2004. George peacefully passed away, surrounded and held by those who loved him most. He wasn't in any pain, and I don't think he suffered.

So I wanted to share something about George with all of you.

A good friend called me today. She knew George well, and had spent a lot of time with him when we lived in the UK. She called to see how I was doing, and after an initial period of sadness we started to reminisce. Within moment we were howling with laughter recalling our favourite stories about George.

• The way he used to run flat out at you, and swerve at the last minute



• His obsession with laying in the muddiest, smelliest, water he could find
• The way he would always bounce and snap at his favourite people
• The way he would lay in his paddling pool for hours, and then bound through the house dripping water everywhere
• How he loved to run, and if he was with a faster dog he would turn around and race straight back so he could always be the 'winner'
• How he loved to lean on people to get a fuss
• How even the very simplest things in life could bring him such great pleasure
• The way he would become uncontrollable after acupuncture treatments
• How he never took 'no' for an answer
• The way he loved to seek out and pick up dead things on our walks
• How much he loved being in charge of his own little 'pack'
• How much he enjoyed visiting a nursing home as a therapy dog, and how that experience gave him a life long love of anyone in a wheelchair
• His strange phobia of anything unusual in the sky, which made for some interesting walks
• The way he loved to be the centre of attention
• His love of all things soft and comfy (blankets, coats, and mostly the sofa)
• How he loved staying with my mother in law, and always had to be dragged away (a few lbs heavier) after his holidays
• His love of squeaky toys
• How he loved to bite the flowers off plants
• His view that learning tricks was a waste of his time, confident in the knowledge that he would get a treat anyway

The list is endless.

And right there and then I came to a conclusion. George simply wasn't a dog anyone could be sad about. Anyone who met George would immediately have seen not only what a character he was, but also how much he just loved being George.

He left us so suddenly, and never gave us any questions about the choice we had to make, and this was just typical of him. He wasn't a dog who would want to linger, or be remembered as ill and fragile. He was a dog who ate a raw chicken and ran around the garden less than 24 hours before he died. At first I was shocked at the suddenness of it all, but now I simply see that it was always going to be this way with George - he was my all or nothing dog right up until the end.

We feel blessed that he was part of our lives, and he leaves a very large hole in our hearts and our home, but more than that he leaves us with enough happy memories and anecdotes to last forever. Which at the end of that day is all he ever would have wanted.

And finally many people sent me thoughtful and touching poems about the loss of a beloved pet. I derived great comfort from these, but none of them really seemed to accurately sum up George. Below is a Haiku by Lee Minardi, which does exactly that in just 14 words.

Some may say too lean
But the Greyhound understands
To lean is a verb

We will miss you Georgie Bear, but thank you for making us smile, even during our darkest hours.

Nigel's tribute

I'm not a 'doggy person', and when Fiona introduced the first greyhound, Jack, to our home, I certainly hoped it would be the last. And then came George.

You will have read George's story on other pages on this site, so this is just my personal reflection. My first thought was how big he was, compared to Jack. My second thought was that he had boss eyes and an orange coat. But when Fiona explained that George's fate was to be put to sleep, he had to stay. Not least because my father's name is George, and I couldn't let another 'George' down like that.

So it was that the boss-eyed orange dog came to stay with us.

And soon another trait emerged, that of Mr PersonalityPlus. George lived life to the full, no half measures. If something was worth dong, it was worth doing well, or exuberantly, or at least with an audience-preferably one that could be leant on. Because George loved people. One night, out walking the two dogs around the block, Fiona came across a queue of people waiting for a bus. George leant on them.

In fact, if we ever did one thing wrong in that dog's life, it was to be less socially active than he would've liked. He would've appreciated far more people coming to our home to fuss and pander to him.

There's so much to write about George, but I don't have the words to do him justice. So, farewell boss-eyed orange dog, we love you so much and you've left such a hole in our lives.

Thank you

As with any dog there were so many people who were part of George's life.

Martin (vet) and Evelyn (nurse). Thank you for making George's last moments so peaceful. For respecting him and saying the right things, both to him and to us.

Caroline (friend) for calling and not feeling guilty about remembering the good times.

Shirley (friend) for her thoughtful messages, and posting about George to so many people.

Larissa (friend) for bringing her dogs over to play with mine, and for bringing wine. You made all of us feel better.

Beryl (mother-in-law) who loved to 'babysit' the boys, and always took such great care of them. Also for never being cross at George's 'efforts' in helping her with the gardening.

Lee Minardi (author) for permission to use her Haiku on this page.

Thomas Critzer (inventor) for developing the storm defender cape. After a lifetime of storm phobia George finally found peace with his wonderful new cape. He didn't have it long, but I will always be grateful for the relief it gave him for a few short weeks.

The kennel staff who cared for George all those years ago. In amongst all those dogs you saw his potential and refused to let him leave without a chance at a good home.

Jack (greyhound) for letting me know it was OK to adopt George all those years ago.

And to Nigel who never wanted a second greyhound but gave in gracefully anyway. And for being there for both George and I when it mattered the most.

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