George.

     The most perfect dog almost ever had just passed away of cancer; I was devastated by the loss of my best friend Matrix.  He was around 12 years old, not nearly long enough for me, but because he was in fact my best friend, I let him go see Jesus when it became obvious that he couldn't stay with me and not be in pain.  I have Caity and Brandon to thank for being so kind as to take him into the vet's office for his one way ticket to the Rainbow Bridge. I just couldn't do it. I had done that so many other times for my own dad and for friends, this time it would have been too hard on my soul.

     As I lay on the couch in my house on that cold, cold, cold, Indianapolis evening, praying and crying, thanking God for my Mr. Matrix, I got a text from my good friend Gordon Dean Flick; I have to say his full name because there's another Gordon Flick in my life, believe it or not, a Facebook friend in Oklahoma, but this text came from my good Confederate buddy GDF, who lived just a few miles from me in Indy, and he and I were going to discuss a particular event that took place during the Civil War (he doesn't call it that; he calls it the Northern Aggression.)  The text started off with a sweet condolence about my friend Matrix, and Gordon's recalling of a dear memory that swept across his mind when he last saw my dog during the filming of a Australian animal show with Faith. Gordon had been invited as part of our family for the shoot -- he was in charge of wrangling Matrix so for Gordon, Matrix's passing was a moment of sorrow too.

    Later that week, not long after the grieving began, I got another text, and I thought it was from Gordon, but it wasn't. It was from a woman named Gordy who lived in Ohio, just over the Indiana border. She ran an animal rescue and wanted to know if I could help her out. Apparently, she had seen the Australian animal show, she had seen my name, recognized it on her Facebook home page, and decided that I may be able to help her since I had posted about Matrix's passing.  Seems she had a little weenie dog that was about to be put down due to his food aggression, but she swore up and down that he really wasn't like that, he just decided to be a boo-bear during the intake testing.  He was literally on death-row!  Could I help? 

    Gordy explained to me that the way it works in her county and her state is that when a dog comes in there is an intake, he either passes the test or he doesn't. If he doesn't pass the tests he could be immediately put down, or they could post him in another jurisdiction, but it had to be one that crossed both the county in Ohio, and the state line if the dog was to be retested and given a chance. She wanted to know if I would foster the dog for a week and then she'd come back to collect him, retest him, and if he passed the test this time he could be adopted.  I told her no. I would not foster the dog for a week. I told her I would take the dog.  I had no idea.  

    The snow was ONLY a foot deep outside, it was not quite a full on blizzard, so yeah, the girls and I decided to drive sixty miles to the East of our little house in the center of Indianapolis and meet the unknown, aggressive dog I was about to give the next several years to; why not? We're brave and adventurous souls; we can do this. We rescue horses in worse conditions, why not a dog? He was, after all, a weenie dog.  Weenie dogs get a bit more leniency in my world - - OK, they get the entire world, we'll go with that. They get whatever the heck they want -- before they even ask.

    We met around 11 p.m. and it was cold; did I mention it was freezing cold? It was OH MY GOSH cold, and it was dark and there were virtually no lights to light up the grocery store parking lot we had decided to meet at; it was just miserable and there we were with our smiles and our hopeful faces waiting for Gordy to pull into the parking lot with an untamed maniac with a short legs, a long body, and probably an attitude the size of Godzilla; he was, after all, a weenie dog.  She pulled into the parking lot next to my car, and we said our howdy-dos, we hugged even though we didn't know each other because I'm from Oklahoma, and it turns out Gordy is from Southern Mississippi, so yeah, we're gonna hug, it's a Southern thang; it will be done. We talked for a minute, we exchanged vet information, and the moment she opened the little cage door to retrieve my new friend -- he bit me.

    Gordy's face sunk. She was not sure what to do; she was not sure what she would say, but she knew that this meant the immediate end for the little dog.  She hadn't met the Stringfellows before, so she had no idea what to expect.  Laura grabbed a blanket from the back of the car and wrapped the little shivering brown Dachshund in the blanket so tightly he had no choice but to settle down; and his muzzle was not free to make a second dig at my hand.  "Thank you" Laura said to Gordy, as she loaded the new dog into our car without his kennel.  She decided she would hold him all the way back to our home and if he bit her she said she'd just bite him back! That's my girl.  Gordy cried, then she laughed. We're still good friends all these years later.

    What are you going to name him, Mom?  I looked at my daughter and said, "You remember the Bugs Bunny cartoon where the abominable snowman was holding Bugs and petting him?"  Laura said she did remember it.  "I'm going to love him, and squeeze him, and call him George."  Was my answer.  And that is exactly what we did.  He came home with us on December 31, 2012, and he was my best friend for about 8 years before he too made the decision to cross the Rainbow Bridge. For George it wasn't cancer, it was an accident that left his back end paralyzed.  Oh, I cried. Oh, I wailed and wailed. I only thought I missed Matrix. When we all see each other again, it will be a fight to the finish for them I'm sure to see which one I grab first; but oh, they don't know about Rover.  He was my first weenie dog; and he will be my forever right hand companion. There will be a few falling behind that dog, but I'm positive that Matrix and George are already deciding who follows Rover most of the time.