I remember the day I found G.G. She was pregnant, alone and eating out of a trash can. At first, I kept her in the backyard, which proved a fortunate choice. Her street-honed survival instincts caused her to growl aggressively when she saw my other dogs at the back door.
I had her spayed and the pregnancy aborted. When I brought her home from the vet, she tried to attack the other dogs through the glass storm door. But when I was alone with her, she was gentle and loving—and she had an endearing way of putting one of her paws on top of my hand as I patted her.
After a week, her aggressive behavior had not changed. I decided I couldn’t have my other dogs living in fear, so I called the animal shelter and told them I was bringing her in. As I went to the backyard to talk with her one last time, I realized I couldn’t go through with it. She was a good girl, and I loved her too much to let her be euthanized. We would find a way to make it work. So G.G. she became, and we were inseparable companions for 11 years.
Four months after I found her, I took G.G. fishing with me for the first time. After a couple of hours, I pulled the boat to the shore to let G.G. explore the bank. I tied one end of a long rope to her collar and the other end to a ring on my life vest. After a few minutes, G.G. bolted. She pulled so hard that she ripped the ring out of my life jacket and ran unfettered into the tall grass.
I chased after her, but within moments she ran out of sight. I feared she was gone forever. Downhearted, I hurried back to the boat to get the small container of dog food I brought with me. I vowed to stay at the lake all day, if necessary, walking through the tall grass, calling her name and shaking the food container in hopes of luring her to me. I had walked only 100 yards when G.G. came bounding out of the grass toward me. I did not have to seek her. She had already chosen me as her person.
Eventually, time took its toll on G.G. The leap into my bass boat became harder. She developed an enlarged heart. Two days before Christmas, as we were taking an afternoon walk, G.G. went into cardiac arrest. As she lay dying on the cold concrete, she gamely tried to pull herself up with her front legs. She could not. I leaned forward to comfort her, and as I did so, she reached out her paw and placed it on my hand to comfort me.
John Scott
