Friday Dogs: George

This is George, and it might be considered cheating to use her for a Friday Dogs post, since no one is entirely certain whether she is, in fact, a dog, or just using some clever disguise to further her plans for global conquest.




She is the leader of the local transgender dogs (see also: Charlie). Perhaps she could best be described by relaying the story of her origin, as told to me by her owner, Leslie:

In rural southern Illinois, where the most exciting feature is a single tree amidst the endless acres of cornfields, there was a rather high-end breeder of bichon frises. A few miles down the road was another breeder of moderate repute, one of Jack Russell terriers.

Jack Russells are famous for their ability to defy gravity. One of the stud Jack Russells jumped (or possibly flew) over the fence, booked it across town, and flew over another fence, which contained the prize bichon bitches. The bichon breeder was about 30 seconds too late in discovering this.

If you're unfamiliar with the way dog breeding works (among reputable breeders, anyway), you ought to know that a breeder relies upon their reputation above all else. For a bitch whose grandmother won at Westminster, to be impregnated by a dog of another breed — her first litter, no less — could ruin that dog's career and spoil many, many years of careful planning on the part of the breeder. HUGE faux pas.

So the breeders were desperate to shuffle the puppies quietly off into good homes with owners who had never set foot in a show ring. My friend Leslie heard about this debacle, and stopped by to have a look at the puppies.

When she arrived, a wave of cute, fluffy, white, bouncy little puppies came tumbling toward her, with big puppy smiles and wagging little puppy tails.

...And then there was this one.

This undersized little female puppy who sort of stumbled out of the whelping box with a perpetually confused expression on her face. When Leslie picked her up, the pup didn't try to lick her face, instead going stiff and sticking all four legs straight out, like one of those suction-cup Garfields you see in minivan windows.

Leslie took this puppy solely on the basis that no one else would want her. And named her George, because gosh darnit, she just looked like a George.

[For the record, George (despite being in every sense an oddball) is a relatively healthy dog, with more quirks than I can count but no real behavior problems.]