We recently figured out his name. GEORGE! Of course, that's his name. It fits him perfectly...Sir George, the slayer of dragons, my knight in shining armour.
I've known him for quite a while, but never called him by his name. He was just there.
Over this last year, though, I have become quite dependent on him. When we discovered his name, the children instantly began calling him Jorge (pronounced hor-hey). I occasionally tease by calling him Georgie Porgie.
He loves it.
I don't mind being together for a little time, but when it is more than an hour or two, I want to get away from him. I've never let him in the house, it wouldn't be right. Even so, he is a faithful friend. He continues to hang around the property; he likes to be available whenever I need him.
We love the same music. Flamenco guitar seems to suit George best, we are happy together when we play it loudly.
Some days are wet, or cold; I can always count on him to work quickly to keep me warm and dry. Such a friend! He always carries my stuff, without fail, even my purse, no matter how cumbersome or heavy, and he is willing to go anywhere with me.
Often, we will go shopping together; he patiently waits for me, never complaining. Isn't that great?
I almost revealed to Mr. Santos how I took a nap with George while the children were in their violin class. But, No. I decided to keep it to myself. I didn't want to cause him any pain or jealousy. Still, it would have been fun to see his reaction to:
"Mr. Santos, George held me gently, while I took a nap with him. We were waiting for the children to finish class."
Do you also name your cars?