A girl’s best friend

After a day at the beach, Georgie’s coat was riddled with sand. I would take the garden hose and soap her down, rinse good and then she’d roll in the dirt. Even though there was only one spot in the yard that had more dirt than grass. Sort of a natural pathway from the back yard to the side fence.

Georgie’s coat was coarse and wiry, a little longer than other large dogs. It wasn’t a coat that inspired petting. No softness there. She was made to brave the elements, but her favorite spot was on the floor of my room, right in front of the door.

It was a relaxing time, after a day at the beach. I called her inside, since she was probably dry enough by now. The screen door slammed shut, and I sat down on the bed. Pressed “play” on the tape player, and put on my headphones. After awhile I was singing “Leave me alone! Don’t want your promises no more! ‘Cause rock n roll is my religion and my God…” Georgie jumped up next to me. Put her head in my lap. I scratched behind her ears.

Grandma called from the kitchen, “Time for dinner!” But of course I didn’t hear her. Then she poked her head through the doorway. “Come on, dinner’s ready!” Georgie yawned, and I took off the headphones. We both got up to go into the kitchen. But I told my dog to lie down and stay, so she did.

June, 1982

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