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Georgia Peach - Chapter 2

Right now she is lying on a sleeping bag folded in four in the corner of our bedroom, just a few feet away from my computer table. She is making soft snuffling sounds as she breathes and will no doubt be snoring soon.

She is sweet and gentle yet full of life. Huge wideset brown eyes look up enquiringly, reticent, yet choosing to trust. "Do you love me?" she seems to ask. "If you do, there's a never ending supply here in return! And even if you don't, I'll keep trying til you do!"

There is no need for a collar and leash, though we use one anyway when we are near traffic as an extra measure of safety. She follows me everywhere I go, staying within a few feet of me as long as we are moving and then venturing out to explore on her own only when I stop. As soon as I call her name she stops in her tracks and snuffles and waddles back to me.

Her movements are slow and plodding for the most part - unless she gets excited - and then she seems to almost forget that she's not a puppy anymore. Today Brenda came over to meet her and after a few minutes of having her neck ruffled and her ears rubbed, Georgia jumped for joy, did a half turn and wiggled her back end where her tail is supposed to be. Brenda just loved her and Georgia just loved her back.

That's the effect she has on most of us. At work she seems to know what she's there for. She waits for the people we support there to come to her and doesn't push herself on anyone. When the house is empty and I'm at work at my desk, she is right beside me - spread-eagled on the floor, or lying on her side, fast asleep. She is the ultimate couch potato. She only has three speeds - slow, slower and slowest - and when she's moving slow, that's fast for her.

She's not an "obedient" dog. She doesn't stay because she's been ordered to, or because she's been disciplined into that habit, but simply because she wants to. She's a people dog, through and through. She wants to be where you are, plain and simple.

Last night I took her next door to say goodnight to the five little guys who live over there. Three were already asleep, but the two youngest were happy to see her. Little Greg picked up her leash and said in two-year-old-ese, "Dough woo-ey boo dawg, I woe who you." (Translation: Don't worry, bull dog. I won't hurt you.") Then he led her around the house by gently pulling on her leash. She's forty pounds of solid muscle and her breed originated to take down a 2,000 pound bull, but she lets a two year old lead her around his house on a leash. That's what you call, "meek".

Nine-month-old Owen sits beside her on the floor and pats her and pulls gently at her soft jowls. She snuffles back and puts up with him, sneaking a lick when we're not looking, like it's her divine calling to tolerate babies. Perhaps it is.

She's kind of ugly as dogs go. So ugly that it's comical - and endearing, too. The poor thing is so big and muscular, clumsy and awkward, that you can't help but love her. You might say she has a face that only a mother could love, but everyone else seems to love her too!

Georgia Peach. She's a gift, all right. Truly an answer to prayer. And if there was any doubt - she's here to stay. :)


Marilyn said…
I smiled through this whole post, imagining each scene. Hopefully in the future you will post a pic!
Deidra said…
I'm in love and I haven't even really met her. What a great word picture you (and Georgia) have given me for meekness. Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.

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