Georgia is a cross between an Australian Shepherd and a Border Collie, and her work ethic reflects her breeding. She was one of a litter of puppies my sister's dog had 11 years ago, and is the spitting image of my favorite childhood pet named Suzie. She earned the nickname "Georgia" from her Tennessee family, and it just stuck once she came to live with us.
The journey to Georgia for Georgia was not pretty. We were a family of 6 crammed into our car, and adding a car-sick 5 month old puppy to a 6+ hour drive was not my idea of "getting away from it all." Vomiting in close quarters is contagious, that's all I'm saying.
Once here, Georgia embraced the farm life with her boundless energy and exuberance and joy of being a dog and she thoroughly loved living on 100 acres of non-stop adventure. She joined our other dog, a rather middle-aged old man of a Lab named Blackjack, who was less than enthusiastic about this young, bouncy whippersnapper; yet Georgia ignored his frumpy nature and cajoled and nipped and often lured him into a game of tag; and she gradually warmed her way into Blackjack's heart and into ours.
Georgia is a dog who loves to please. She typifies the Southern belle image her name evokes and frequently sits with her front paws crossed in grand lady-like style. We often pronounce her name with a French sounding accent to give her an added air of sophistication. She is affectionate and fun and protective and terrified of thunder. Georgia is not perfect and she sometimes scares the phone guy by her zeal to defend the family. (My youngest says that Georgia is so protective of our home because she's the "alfalfa" female of the farm.) She loves to swim and hunt and hang out with our new Lab, Maddie. Tuesday was a typical day for her: she and Maddie cornered a critter under some boards, took a swim in our pond, visited Neighbor Dog, roamed our woods, cleared the varmints out of our pasture, and escorted me down our driveway when I came home. Wednesday we got up to a very sick Georgia, and a sad diagnosis and grim prognosis from our vet.
Yesterday Georgia's life ended. My husband buried her next to our little barn, and my little one planted flowers on her grave. It rained all day.