Happy Birthday Georges

When you know something is aligned (and I knew it was),

you don't wait until you have it all figured out to act.

You just do. You believe and start.

This is how you create what you were waiting for.

THE TALE

It's been exactly a year now, on April 24, 2020. I had moved to a small one-bedroom apartment with my best friend and her huge adolescent husky.

We were both in a breakup.

I always said I wanted a dog. But my excuses and doubts had convinced me not to for a while. (Traveling too much, working too far... Do I really want to commit for that long? What if my future projects can't accommodate having a dog?)

One morning, our confined trio was hanging out in the living room.

"It's such a nice presence to have around," I said.

Then the inspiration struck me. From deeper than ever. "Oh Steph, what if I got one too''

"I would have someone to go exploring wild places with and, a reason to come home and rest. Take care of myself you know.''

''It would help me make better decisions," I told her.

See, dogs need to be outside, free, and loved. That's... truly all I need too.

I also knew that having a dog with who I could goof around and to who I could talk was going to ease my transition from an unhealthy addictive relationship pattern to more freedom and peace.

With this burst of febrile intensity, we called and did some web search for a while until a friend of hers replied. He was working in a dog sledding kennel where a dog was ready to retire.

Georges.

He sent us a picture.

The cutest sound of awe came out of me.

I looked at my friend and nodded multiple yesses with excitement.

“He's the one.”

There was a slight problem though.

In our country, due to Covid-19, inter-regional travels that were deemed unnecessary were forbidden and police officers were controlling transits.

Georges was 1 hour and a half away. In another region.

You know when the gut feeling is so intense you can't question it? Well, I just knew we were going to be fine.

Indeed, when we got to the roadblock, we told the story to the officer (a dog lover of course) and he allowed us in. “It seems pretty necessary. But you better come back with a dog!” He said.

We got there, fell in love, and drove back.

Showed the cute little rescued pal to the officer and made it home. (safe and watching our six).

I carried Georges up the 3rd floor in my arms because well, he was scared of the new. (Stairs? Walls? DOORS? Couch...)

In order to give you some background info about this dog sledding thing, let me just say this.

Most kennels I know are caring and loving to their dogs, some have other preoccupations.

It all comes down to this:

When money overrides health, happiness, and care in the decision-making process of a company that uses nature as a commodity, well it can get terribly sad.

Georges wasn't a huge fan of pulling the clients on the sleds. But he had some teammates that he liked running with.

He is more of a chill and shy kind of dog.

Actually, I like to say: selective, not shy.

Given the fact that his past family was loving and understanding of their dogs. They decided that he was ready for retirement.

A well-deserved retirement, given the surprising info that I discovered during our recent visit back to the kennel.

In the late winter, my now ex-roommate, but still best friend, and our dogs went back for a visit.

When we got there everybody greeted us like we were old friends.

We didn't know anyone.

They knew Georges.

I had thought that the place he was born and raised (Another kennel far up north) must have been rough to him since he was scared and submissive.

But no!

I was blown away to learn that he was a champion dog sledding racer and won races with his team in his younger years. I dug up the web and even found videos and pictures of his races.

What a champ!

Chill all day on the couch babe, you earned it.

We did save each other. We found a place in nature and a man who loves us a whole lot. We are partners and spend every day together.

His age remains a mystery. I talked to his racing family and they lost his genealogical record sheet.

I like to think that he is between 6 and 8 years old.

So, I decided to share my birth date with him. After all, he got home a day before mine.

On the day we visited back the kennel, a family that had just done a ride on the sleds was amazed by the reunion that was happening with Georges. They told me they were considering doing the same.

We were walking through the dogs and I introduced them to the two other dogs that were also ready for a new home.

“I can't express how magical this would be for both your family and the dog. I strongly recommend it.” I said.

Just like I recommend it to anyone who's ready for it.

We found each other. We rescued each other.

We could not have found a better match.

“My perception switched,” I told them.

“Now I see them as dogs that could be at home too, just like Georges. They are no different than him. Just their situation is. What we see, they become.”

We shared a mutual understanding look and I was relieved to know that other families could come and offer retirement homes for them too.

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A tale by Nashane Lacroix