We gathered on the sand with the other dogs in the heavyweight final. The crowd had grown larger and there were now not just hundreds of people on the beach but well over a thousand. The competition area was roped off and the announcer was amping up the crowd:
“Let’s welcome back Shad, Bruno, the brash and brave bulldog … and weighing in at a lo-o-o-t of pounds, the biggest dog ever to grace a board in this competition, the friendly Newfoundland … George!”
The cheer from the crowd went up louder than I expected. Some kids started to chant, “George! George! George! George!” He turned his head to watch them and wagged his tail. Everyone started to laugh, and I couldn’t help but smile. It felt great to know that George was a catalyst for a lot of the smiles and joy on that beach. In the morning I’d felt a bit unsure about what we were doing, even though George was, as usual, ten paces ahead of me and happy just to be alive. But now, taking in the warmth from the California sun and from the smiles of the people gathered there, I was feeling the joy, too.
Moments later the air horn sounded, and off we went into the surf, dogs and owners and boards. We were running and laughing as we made our way to the water. The waves were still big, and I held the board down against them. George jumped on before we even made it out. “Want a ride?” I asked as I paddled him out to the first wall of white water. The front of the board went high up into the air, but we managed to make it over and I kept paddling as hard as I could. The next wave, however, was far closer than the others had been in the morning, and before I knew it, we were in “no man’s land”—a place so close to the wave that we couldn’t turn around or keep paddling forward because it was going to break right on top of us.
“Hang on, George!” I yelled as a cascade of greenish-blue water dropped almost directly on our heads. The board went spiraling skyward dramatically, and George and I were pummeled and submerged. I knew to hold my breath, to relax until the chaos of the wave washed by, but did George? After a few long seconds I rolled to the surface and cleared my eyes of water, searching for him. He wasn’t there. Oh no, I thought, but the next thing I saw was his head popping out of the water about six feet behind me.
“George!” He turned toward me and started swimming as fast as he could. “It’s okay, big guy. I’m all right.” But he was determined to grab my arm and tow me back to shore. “You’re a good boy, George,” I said as I gave in, wrapping my arms around his neck and letting him take me to shallow water. Bruno the Bulldog surfed right past us as the crowd cheered.
Back on the shore, the volunteers ran over to us with George’s board. They were breathless. “There’s still time! Take him out again!” I could hear a few people in the crowd chanting George’s name, and so could he. I crouched next to George on the sand. “Up to you, big guy. Want to try again?” I went to grab the board, and George hopped back on in the shallow water and we started to paddle our way out.
A few minutes later we made it past the break without falling. I got George in position. He was becoming used to this game. “Okay, George, sit … stay. Good boy.” I went to the back of the board to push, but he was trying to turn around to check on me, which was throwing his balance off. Just as the next swell rose behind us, I pushed the board as hard as I could, but instead of going straight, because he had his weight on the left side of the board it headed about forty degrees to the left, along the face of the wave. It was actually the best way for human surfers to take off, but it wasn’t ideal for dogs, who need to be square to the wave for better stability. For a few seconds he couldn’t see me behind the cresting wave and he stayed focused and balanced on the board. As soon as the wave broke, however, he tumbled off in a spectacular wipeout.
The whole ride lasted only a few seconds, but it was a quality ride. I was later told that from shore this ride looked amazing. This time, instead of swimming back for me, George ran to the beach. I swam to shore to meet him where he was sitting, wagging his tail, tongue out. I plopped down beside him and he put a big, wet paw on my leg. “You’re tired. Let’s catch our breath, big guy,” I said. There was no urgency about anything. We sat like that, side by side on the beach, with the crowd chanting and cheering behind us, and watched the other incredible dogs still out catching their waves.
A few minutes later I noticed our surfboard was caught in the backwash and was drifting out toward the surf. I jumped up to grab it and haul it to shore, but as I did, George jumped up, too, and ran right by me into the water and climbed onto the board. By the time I caught up to him, the air horn sounded. The finals were over, and fittingly, George was standing proudly on his beat-up rental board. He had not been the best surfing dog in the finals, but there was no denying he was the biggest and happiest dog on the beach. I was so proud of him. If I’d had a tail, I would have been wagging it, too.
An awards ceremony was to follow on the beach, and after George and I cleaned up a bit, we went down to watch. The organizers had brought out a podium and were awarding surfboard-shaped medals to the day’s winners.
It was quite a sight to see, as handlers and dogs made their way to the podium and the dogs, despite being tired from a full day of activity at the ocean, perked right up as soon as they were in front of the crowd. Owners spoke on behalf of their pets, often praising the organizers for hosting the event and for doing such a good job of raising money for rescue dogs, a cause close to everyone’s heart.
George and I were standing at the back of the crowd when the winners for the extra-large division were called up. One of the retrievers was declared the winner and Bruno the Bulldog came second—and to my surprise, George got third. “Wow, George, you came in third!” I said. We made our way through the crowd, with people clapping, some reaching out to pat George and some reaching out to shake my hand.
When we reached the podium, Lisa gave me a hug and tried to place a surfing medal around George’s neck. Of course it was too small, which elicited laughter from the crowd. As we were making our way back through the crowd to our spot at the rear, I heard, “Ladies and gentlemen, all our winners have been announced, so now it’s time to call upon the dog that you chose as a favorite. It’s time to hand out the People’s Choice Award for Crowd Pleaser! George, don’t walk away so soon. Will you please come to the podium again.”
I was pretty sure I’d heard wrong.
“They’re calling you,” some fellow dog owners said to George and me.
“Wow, really?” We moved back through the crowd, receiving more pats and handshakes, and when we made it to the front, there was Lisa again, smiling from ear to ear.
“Congratulations to George, and to you, too, Colin. We’re so happy that you joined us today. I know everyone was excited to have not only such a big dog out surfing today, but such a sweet dog with a bigger personality. I’m so pleased to be giving George this special medal for winning the Crowd Pleaser Award.”
Lisa crouched in front of George and tucked the second medal into his collar, as another peal of laughter issued from the crowd. He thanked her with one of his big, sloppy kisses. A volunteer handed us a large prize bag of dog stuff—leashes, toys, collars, bowls, treats and dog food. George put his head into the bag and sniffed, but he was definitely more interested in the people around him than the treats. He then threw his head back, gave a small howl and did a shoulder roll onto his back, where he received a champion’s belly rub.
Once the ceremonies were over, the judges came over and shook my hand. “He’s really quite something, your dog,” they said. “We’ve never seen any dog like him.”
I was so proud of him. “Thanks,” I said. “Did you hear that, George?”
George turned to look up at us, a giant “Huh?” written all over his face. I got down to his level and wrapped him in an enormous hug. George getting an award not for his surfing but for being an all-around nice dog and for spreading smiles and love was the unexpected perfect ending to a perfect day.
Once the awards ceremony was over, I thought George and I would head home
and spend a quiet evening relaxing … but not before being approached by more spectators, competitors and volunteers—dozens of people, all offering their congratulations.
“You’re so lucky. He’s a beautiful dog.” I had never heard it so often and with such conviction. This time, the full weight of it struck me. I really am lucky.
Nine months earlier George had been so emotionally broken that any contact with a stranger or any sudden movement would make him very afraid. Twenty months earlier I, too, had suffered a big emotional loss and a change that made me back away from life. I realized on that day just how much disappointment and sadness about the breakup of my marriage I’d still been holding on to. I’d been closing myself off from people and experiences in my personal life, and I was failing to recognize and embrace all that life offers, especially in someplace as nice as Southern California. How could I take so much for granted and be going through the motions of life in such a daze? George lived brightly and beautifully—every day. He’d given back a thousand times over whatever love I’d sent his way, and he graciously offered love to anyone who offered it to him. He was happy and grateful every day.
In that moment I felt myself let go of all the pain. Instead of defining my existence through the loss of my marriage, I looked at George and saw how to define myself through love, friendship and joy. I had someone who loved me as deeply as anyone ever had. And I was happy—I had every reason to be.
The saying “A dog is a man’s best friend” isn’t a cliché for me; it’s a lived experience. It’s an acknowledgment that life’s best gifts can come at any time, even when we least expect them. They can come in some very large packages, too, some even wrapped in fur and slobbery kisses.
After the excitement and upheaval of the contest, George and I finally did get our quiet night at home. We packed up all our gear and headed up the Pacific Coast Highway to Bruce Jones’s Surf Shop, where we rinsed off all the saltwater and sand.
We drove home, ate some dinner and went for a walk. It was a normal night. George still had to do his business—his big business—and I still had to pick it up. We watched a little TV, George snoozing at my feet, and I eventually went to bed and read for a while. After a few minutes George lumbered over and hopped up in bed beside me. I put down my book and gave his big, velvety ears a rub. The love I felt for him was bursting through my heart and I couldn’t tell him enough.
I had a vivid flash of memory back to when I was a kid and my brother and I were tucked in our bunk beds at my grandfather’s cottage after a full day of sun and play. I saw my grandfather in a chair beside us, finishing the last page of the bedtime story we’d asked him to read:
“Boys, we had a pretty good day today, didn’t we?”
Of course we did. With Grandpa we always did.
“Boys, when you’re lucky enough to spend a day with someone you love, doing things you enjoy, you don’t grow old that day. Today was a free day on earth.”
I turned to George. “George, did you have fun today?”
His tail beat against the duvet. Then he closed his droopy tired eyes and rumbled off to sleep.
In the glow of the bedside lamp with George curled up beside me, I knew we had just had a free day.
I put my book down, turned off the light, put my arm around George and went to sleep.
HERE ARE A FEW LITTLE LESSONS I LEARNED FROM ONE VERY BIG DOG:
Always swim and surf with a buddy. Both activities are safer and more satisfying that way.
The ocean, like life, can sink you or keep you afloat. Keep your head above the water, and no matter how scary it seems, learn to ride the waves.
Size matters. Whether you’re big or small, it’s only the size of your heart that counts.
There is no singular way to find love or wisdom. What’s important is to recognize when an opportunity for growth presents itself and to accept it with gratitude—whether it comes via an experience, a person … or a very big dog.
September 2014
As a little kid, I used to wonder how my grandfather got so smart. How did he know so much about so many different things? As I have gotten older myself, my appreciation for his wisdom has only expanded. Now I often wonder how other older people have acquired their wisdom. I study the hard-earned lines in their faces and can only guess at what experiences brought them to where they are now. Did they become wiser through reading books or through personal successes and failures, or were they just old souls from the time they were born? In the case of George, it’s clear his wisdom comes from a combination of his life experience with his innately old soul. I place immense value on his friendship, trust, companionship and, most of all, his love.
After spending two great years together in Hermosa Beach, California, in 2011 George and I returned to Toronto, Ontario, where we now live a quiet—and happy—life. We have found a new community of dogs and their owners in a small park close to where we live downtown. We gather there every morning and every evening, rain or shine. George enjoys his daily play dates with his good pals Molly, Roxi, Barney, Duffy, Brodie and Howard … and any other dog straying into the informal, friendly, furry pack.
We have also added a new family member at home: Charlie the Cat. Charlie was a young, homeless, six-toed cat found wandering the streets when I heard about him through a friend. He is the feline equivalent of George, affectionate and social beyond all standard cat norms. George took to Charlie right away. When Charlie isn’t purring on my lap, he’s curled against George’s warm belly, both of them sound asleep. They are kindred spirits.
I have managed to carve out a new life for myself here in Toronto, one where I look forward to the future and enjoy the present, instead of dwelling on the sadness of the past. I’m pleased to say that I’m in a healthier emotional space now, much happier and even a bit wiser.
George and I made many great friends during our adventure together in L.A. and we took away countless fond memories of our time there. After George’s first surfing competition, we continued to surf at Huntington Beach on weekends, and in 2010 George competed in the Surf City Surf Dog championship once again, placing third in the extra-large division and winning the prestigious Crowd Pleaser Award two years running.
This past summer George and I vacationed in Nova Scotia, and spent time at my grandfather’s cottage and at Rissers Beach, taking in the waves, the soft white sand and the cold, beautiful ocean. We surfed together again, both of us loving the freedom of being in the waves and riding our board together.
Seeing just how much George loves the sport, I decided to give him one more chance to surf in California. George and I attended the 2014 Surf City Surf Dog competition in Huntington Beach just a few weeks ago.
The same crazy event had grown under Lisa and her team’s expert event management. Now there are regularly thousands of spectators crowding the beach and cheering on the dogs. There are participants from far-flung corners of the world. There are even more cameras and “puparazzi.”
George loved being back in California and back at the competition. Many volunteers, competitors and spectators remembered George from years earlier and came out to cheer him on. Despite being tired from a long flight, he held court on the beach, receiving warm hugs and happily posing for pictures with his fans. It was like old times, but with one distinction: George had aged. He was a wiser dog than a few years earlier, but he had also slowed down.
When George’s heavyweight heat began, we went charging headlong into the Pacific surf amid cheers from the crowd. The tide was high and the big waves were breaking right on the shore. Many of the dogs, including George, were having a hard time balancing on their surfboards, and after a few failed attempts in the big surf, George swam back to shore and sat down in the sand. After some unsuccessful coaxing, I headed back to the shore to be with my buddy.
When I got there, he looked me in the eye, as he always does. He gave me a few wet kisses and I put my arm around him. “You’re tired, big guy. I know. It’s okay. Let’s just sit
here and rest.” He gave my face another lick. We sat on the beach and watched as the younger, agile dogs tried their best to get on their boards and surf their way back to shore. George’s competitive surfing career had come to an end.
We spent the next few days catching up on sleep and catching up with friends. On the last morning in California, George appeared more energetic and the swagger was back in his step. “Want to go to the beach?” He wagged his tail and looked up at me as only he does, as if to say, “Today I’m totally ready.”
I took George off the beaten path that day to the Newport Beach River Jetty, just the two of us. In contrast with the chaos of the surfing contest a few days earlier, this morning was quiet and peaceful. The sunny beach was deserted except for a few scattered surfers out catching waves. I grabbed our surfboard, clipped on George’s leash and we wandered down to the shore.
For the next few hours George rushed into the water alongside me, and he surfed waves like a pro. We ran together in the sand and George chased seagulls. We swam together in the surf, and George let me throw my arms around his neck and towed me back to shore. In between, we lazed on the beach and let the sun warm us.
After a few more blissful hours, it was time to pack up and head to the airport for our trip back to Canada. I put my arms around my big, wet, happy dog. “Time to go home, George,” I said. “I love you.” He leaned his weight into my chest. I left the leash off as we walked back to the car. He didn’t need it anymore. And neither did I.
This is the most important lesson I’ve learned from George: the path to wisdom is paved with love. All I did to help George was love him. That’s all it took. You know the saying “It takes a village to raise a child”? The same is true of anyone in need of rescue, whether neglected animals or human beings—it takes a village to see them through. A lot of people helped George in small and big ways, but for all the love he has received, he has given it back a thousand times over, not only to me but to anyone who ever offered him affection. We should all be as wise as George. It is thanks to him, and in memory of my grandfather, that free days from now on will be that much easier to find.
Free Days with George Page 18
