George is my 19 month old Newfoundland dog. He is a constant companion and loyal friend. But he is also a mischievous bugger when he wants to be, and when he is naughty the damage is as you would expect from any other dog, about 10 fold. Instead of running around the house with a shoe, he prefers an ironing board, and instead of whining in the night to go outside, I often cop a face full of slobber; enough to wake me up from a deep sleep!
George and I recently moved from the country to the city which has been an interesting experience to say the least. I am never suprised at how many people are just simply amazed by the sight of George, with at least 30 people per walk stopping to talk, pointing, or just standing there apparently unable to close their mouth. I have flirted with the idea of carrying a sign: : "My name is George. Yes I am big. No, I am not a bear." Everyone smiles when they think they have come up with a witty, original remark "he's as big as a pony," "is that a bear?" Or my favourite, "can you ride him?" If only people new the truth: he IS actually the product of a wacky sixth grade science experiment successfully mating a shetland pony with a polar bear, and when night falls, veiled by the dark of the evening, I ride him around and deliver presents to sick children.
In this blog I will discuss the trials and tribulations of owning a 60 kilo drooling machine and the implications of moving with him from the country to the city, a move that required a 20 page dog resume and 3 months of applying for 'pet friendly rentals.'
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