Tail wagging, shining curious eyes, jingling dog tags, and always eager to please are some of the things that come to mind when I think about my dog, George, who died on Sunday at 12 1/2 years old. We adopted him 6 years ago from a lady who was unable to take care of him. He was a Cockapoo (cocker spaniel/poodle) who loved to play in the snow, lick dishes in the dishwasher, take car rides, go boating, go to the beach and eat butter popcorn even though he was allergic to corn.
"Awwww" Isn't that a cute picture of George? We were babysitting our two year old cousin when she decided she wanted a house for George. Couch cushions worked great. Can you imagine what he's thinking? "Am I done yet? Are these people crazy!?! They want me to sit inside this weird cave and then hold up a box they call a camera at me and tell me to smile! Fine, I'll do it. If it makes you happy. Just as long as I get a treat afterwards."
I will miss him, but I'm glad he's no longer in pain. My family and I found out about a year and a half ago that he had a tumor between his heart and lungs, but decided against an ultrasound guided biopsy because of the risks. He also had some disc disease in his back, so we gave him pain meds for awhile then only as needed, which wasn't much until last week.
George kept active and doing well partly due to our other dog, a black Pomeranian named Teddy who we got last April at 7 months old. First, George ignored Teddy, then tolerated him, and finally accepted him as a buddy. Well, as much as an old dog can accept an active little fluffball. George ignored all my yarn and wool, so I could leave my bag of yarn laying near by my chair, but Teddy loves yarn in every form. I still haven't figured out how to untangle some energized singles he played with last fall.
George will be remembered for his steady eyes and faithful presence laying around the house.