GEORGE

There's a story about a remarkable pig, despite great pain and suffering, saved her owners life. The owner was an old man living alone without much human contact: no family, only "Meals on Wheels" visited him once a week to deliver his food. Many believe that animals, particularly domestic animals can be extremely intelligent, born with mind, body and spirit. This was certainly so with the pig.

One afternoon the old man fell, breaking his hip and couldn't move and no energy to scream out for help.

Having great love and concern for her friend, the pig squeezed with great effort into a very small opening through the back door, causing great pain as the pig was found with quarter centimetre scratches along her sides from pushing herself through the small crack. After an hour of painful effort, the pig escaped and went about looking for help. What she did next is nothing less than pure intelligence and will. She “played possum” and pathetic body on the main road, hoping a passer-by would stop; many did pass by until, after, it is estimated an hour, a man stopped, to examine the pig. She jumped up with enthusiasm and led the man to her friend’s house. The passer-by found the man and he was saved - only because of the courageous actions of the pig.

I only relate this story to illustrate the unconditional relationship animals can display for the one's they are connected to and love.

George was my cat for over fourteen years and died peacefully only last week.

A six week orange Persian kitten, my wife at the time bought him against my decision, because we had just lost another grey Persian from a freak accident only a month prior. She bought George for her because to have the love of an animal is really, to many, a gift. Unfortunately, as most cat lovers know, cats pick their friends and not the other way around....to my wife's anger and dismay, George chose me and would never leave my side.

George was an advanced being because over the years, I'd observed him mingling with the wild life around the property. He made friends with the "resident" possum and her family; sit under our bird feeder, while the Rosella's fed, dropping shells on him and laughing; made friends with the cat next door seeing them sleeping together at dusk in a bush on the property; again, he'd sit on our patio with the calmness of a monk while I hand fed the birds of the forest.

Most of my friends that met George would comment that he appeared to be half dog. I believe this was so because he would sit at my feet in social situations or lie down next to me as we drank and played never leaving my side. In the early days, I had to train him not to follow me on my walking trip to the General Store - the main road was much too busy. Like a dog, too, he would wait for me to come home from work on the front porch and greet me, saying, “Hey dad, dinner time.”

I guess what I'm trying to say is that George was, above all else, a kind soul.

When telling my son, Sam, now in his twenties, about George's passing, he said, “George had eighteen lives not just nine, dad."

Sam is absolutely correct because George survived cancer that kills ninety present of animals; fell off the back porch, severing his tongue by only a sliver, having it sewed up and putting up with damn stitches for months; fighting the local Tom-Cart at thirteen and screaming from his wound

....the list goes on.

Sam was only six when George arrived on the scene, Sam and George, seemed to grow to become good friends.

It was 4:30 am when the old boy passed. Strangely, I sat up all night, checking on him from time to time, waiting....the last time walking up the stairs, I found him slumped on my side bed table. I spread a towel on the bed; gently picked him up and put his body down, and said,

"Don't be scared, George. The angels are here to help you on your journey."

George then died in my arms, the angels guiding this beautiful, wise being...home.

I miss him.