The Growler

I had errands to run in the Lake Oconee area and decided to spend some one-on-one time with one of the dogs. I didn’t want to bring the leash which eliminated Chase and I wanted to bring one of the dogs that didn’t need assistance jumping into the car. This eliminated Molly and Charlie. George, or “Cujo”, was the chosen one. He happily ran to the car and jumped into the back seat. He spent the first part of the twenty minute drive trying out each and every part of the back seat…a luxury for him because he usually is required to share it with two other dogs. George loathes sharing.

It was a beautiful and sunny day. George chose a window and looked out at the scenery. He is a dog that growls. He growls when he is happy. He growls when he is unhappy. He also growls when he is trying to protect his car. George feels that the car needs to be protected from other cars that pass by, people walking in their yards, cows, horses and goats.

This area of Georgia proudly declares itself to be dairy country. At least that’s what all the signs lining Highway 441 declare. Dairy country means cows. Cows mean non-stop barking, growling and spitting as every square inch of this highway is lined with farms. Every field is crowded with cows. George does not like cows.

I finally reached my first destination, which was thankfully cow-free, and rushed inside for a brief moment. Next stop was the bank. I opted to use the drive through for my banking needs. As the canister made its way through the clear tube, I could see George’s eyes following its upward path. He was watching all of the canisters go back and forth through the tubes; unsure if this was something acceptable. My canister returned to me empty and the teller asked for me to send it back so she could give me my receipt. As my canister made a return trip, George made up his mind. Moving canisters were something to loathe and George barked violently at it. When it returned, I opened it to discover a receipt and two dog treats. I handed the treats to George and wondered if he was rethinking his position on the bank drive-through.

The return trip was pretty much the same due to the cow population. He did enjoy the stop through Chik-Fil-A. George likes waffle fries. I could tell because he growled. Upon reaching the house, George jumped out and trotted to the door, wagging his tail furiously. He growled at the three other dogs waiting there to greet me and headed for the water bowl. I think he enjoyed the ride.