||What wonderful things can I tell you about my dear
old George, whose little pickle tail never stopped wagging. Whose
time with us was to short, but so very sweet.
Never one to let a crumb fall to the floor uneaten, the sound of the
milkbone box being opened could bring him running from the barn at a
pace not expected in such an old fellow.
His pitiful moans, groans, yips and sighs accompanied our every
effort to eat anything without sharing with him.
|If you tickled the hair between his toes, he would
roll onto his back and laugh. (No, really!) And he would tenderly
lick my toes for as long as I could stand it, holding my foot down
with one of his giant Cocker paws. He made us laugh at least once
He had seizures, and weeping warts and never quite caught onto the
"house training thing". He was with us only six months, but we
wouldn't trade our time with him for anything. He did not die,
confused and lonely and frightened, in the SPCA he was saved from.
He lies now beside Sandy, in the little clearing in the forest.
where the sun shines down on them through the trees.
Goodbye our warty little guy. A thousand kisses on your soft little
Until we meet again.