We were going to the beach for the weekend and I was just getting my book. I opened the car door with my parents waiting to leave along with Casher my old dog. You have to understand what a big deal this is, having Casher was a really fun and kept us company, but getting another dog would be a miracle because it would be like having a brother that you could hang out with, but wouldn't make you insane. I couldn't wait to get to the beach and now since my Mom told me we were stopping at a golden retriever breeder I couldn't keep my cool. “Let's go, let's go, let's go!” I screamed as we pulled out of the garage. “C'mon faster!” I yelled. About five minutes later I started getting really anxious.

“Now, Henry. We are just going to check. I don't know if we are getting one,” my Mom said.
So I stayed quiet for the next half an hour crossing every part of my body I could so that luck would be on my side.

As we arrived we pulled up to the breeder's house to look at the puppies running around and around after each other. I went and said hi to the breeder's son while my parents started talking to the breeder who happily greeted them.

I went over to the puppies and sat down and they all got really excited and started running for me while I petted the ones closest. After they all started to clear just one stayed and crawled upon my lap and I petted it and played with it and I knew from then on I wanted this one. I picked him up and brought him over to my parents and said I wanted this one and they asked me if I was sure and I said “Yes,” hoping that they would say yes, all I needed was a yes.

After about what seemed like years of them thinking they said, “Yes!” I almost screamed at the top of my lungs with joy as I thought about the adventures and happy or even sad times I would have with him. It overwhelmed me so much I gave him to my parents and I went to watch sponge bob with the breeder's son Mike while my parents signed the papers.

When we came out my parents had just been talking with the breeder (probably about me and Mike). So when I came back they all looked at me and Mike and we said our good byes and we put the dog in the car on my lap with Casher on the floor next to me. Casher is my other dog who is a sheepdog and was at the time sixteen years old in human years. So the reason we wanted another dog was because he was getting to the age where he would die soon.

After we got all settled and started on the last half of the trip to the beach, my dog started whimpering so I held him ever so close and petted his head, which was about the size of my fist today and a body the size of a small loaf of bread and he still whimpered, but it just made me hold him closer.
When we got to the beach he looked out the window and stared confused at the ocean and sand. I got out carrying my stuff and picked up my dog and put him on the leash and led him outside after we had all unloaded. He loved it right away, all the smells and he would run and run and then stick his nose in the ground and then run and run some more until we brought him back inside and he just instantly lay down and slept.

My Mom being the “Saver of the Moment” type was immediately taking pictures of him curled up in a ball on the red carpet in the living room.

When he woke up about 40 minutes later I picked him up and started petting and playing with him some more until we decided to take him outside again to train him about not peeing in the house, which he took on quickly because Casher taught him.

George was pretty good all in all manner wise until he went to my Mom's book cases and gnawed on the leather edges of the books. When my Mom found out she almost made him into a sandwich for that.

So we would bring him outside with Casher to play and when we would come back in he would sleep for a short time then we would cuddle with him and go outside again until it was time to go to bed. Which for my dog was right on top of my bed between me and the wall because he felt more secure.

In the morning I would take him outside with Casher and have them go pee. Then I would bring them back and have breakfast and my dog and Casher would eat their food. Casher would always leave some of his food for my dog so he could eat more because he was a puppy, which was surprising because Casher was a bit of a piggy. When we got home to our house two days later we named him George. He would explore and explore our whole area and he would love to sleep on the warm stones on the driveway.

After about three months at about seven at night and we were upstairs and George was down stairs and we heard him barking really loud and came rushing downstairs and on the side of the wall there was a dead bat hanging. So later the county man that was in charge of rabies came over and said that George probably had rabies because he was too young for the rabies shot and he said the if we didn't put him to sleep and he did have rabies then we would have to get seven shots. But, we said we would have the shots if he had rabies and we weren't putting George to sleep no matter what. The man said that we must keep him away from other people until it had been long enough that we could tell he didn't have rabies, or did.

So after about two or three months we found out he didn't have rabies and we were all so relieved that we played and played with him knowing that he would stay a part of our family for a long time.

About one year later after coming home from school I walked in and was curious about why George wasn't greeting us gleefully like he usually does. I walked in and saw that where I had given Casher his plate of hot dogs was still there and in the laundry room was George curled all around Casher who was dead. So I came back to the car where my Mom was unloading her stuff and I said, “Uh Mom...Casher...,” and we came rushing in and my Mom started crying and crying her eyes out because she had had Casher for 18 years and now he was dead. I started crying too.

Later when we were outside where we buried him we were all very sad, me, my Mom and Dad. When we came back in George was shivering with fear and sadness but he over came it and he was strong so now when ever George is sad we pet him and do you know what we called him? That's right: My Wolf George.