George

George wasn’t merely our dog – he was the beating heart of our home. From the moment his velvety paws first padded across our hallway, he brought with him a quiet confidence and a mischievous sparkle that lifted every ordinary day. Those soulful, amber eyes seemed to know the rhythm of our hearts, tuning in when we needed comfort, companionship or just a reason to laugh. Mornings with George began at dawn. He’d station himself by the kitchen door, tail thumping against the lino until someone emerged with a steaming mug of tea. His eagerness for the day’s first walk was contagious and before long we found ourselves exploring dew-fresh lanes and hedgerows, breathing in the promise of whatever adventures might lie ahead. Rain or shine, he never complained – he simply bounded forward, head held high, embodying an irrepressible joy. At home, George was the undisputed champion of the sofa, striking poses that would have earned him a modelling contract if only he’d cared to hold still. Yet it was his gentler side that left the deepest mark: curling up beside us on restless nights, sensing every troubled thought with uncanny empathy and offering a steady warmth that said, “You’re not alone.” He taught us to appreciate the small things: the thrill of chasing a squirrel’s shadow, the contentment of sharing a quiet moment by the fire, the simple delight of a tennis ball flung just beyond reach. In his company, time slowed and we learned to savour life’s fleeting pleasures before they slipped away. Though George has left us, his spirit remains woven into every familiar corner of our home.