His name is George*, and he proved a staunch and worthy companion. He had these deep soulful eyes that made me feel as if he was really interested in what I had to say. When I spoke, I could tell he was really listening to me. He wasn't just sitting there feigning interest, nor was he listening to the first few words of a sentence, while mentally formulating his reply. He just took my opinions and observations on board like a trusted friend should.
We went on walks together, and afterward, while we recuperated, I would read Jack Vance's novel The Last Castle, and he would lay down and think about what we could do next. Usually, it involved more walking, but not always.
Or we might discuss aspects of Vance's story, such as the large birds with twelve wings that ferried the characters vast distances in large, wicker baskets. George thought the birds were especially cool.
George had a dragon**, and the two often played together. Although the dragon breathed fire, and was therefore ordered back to his metal bowl by the fireplace after playtime was over, the two seemed to enjoy each other's company, and get along well together.
George: proof that humans and dragons and dogs can peacefully coexist, in a climate of mutual love and respect. Thanks for the reminder, George, and I look forward to our next visit together.
*As George was concerned about his privacy, I agreed to withhold his real name. For the purposes of this post, I called him George as an homage to The Dragon and the George by Gordon R Dickson. I enjoyed the novel several times in my teens, and it serves as the first installment in his Dragon Knight series.
**I never got to know the dragon well enough to ask its name. Therefore, its privacy is secure.