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The trouble was, when our daughter Annabel arrived that September, George made it clear he wanted nothing to do with this interloper. He was used to spending nights in delightful oblivion at the foot of our bed. Annabel's high-decibel presence simply wasn't on. When she cried, he'd wake, harrumph, and then turn over in annoyance. Once it was clear the racket was going to continue, he'd exhale heavily again until one of us finished that mysterious feeding thing we did with the noisy intruder.
But while he might not have cared much for Annabel, George loved her dolls, especially a stuffed green one that played a nursery rhyme when squeezed. Whenever he could, he placed it between his paws and pressed it so he could hear the tune. It was like a security blanket. It was a period of such big adjustment for him that if it made him happy then it was fine by us, and our patience was rewarded.
Slowly, George understood that Annabel was our pack's youngest member and in need of his affection & protection. And on Christmas morning he ended his three-month sulk, acknowledging her presence with a lick of her hand. It was the best present we could have had - although the beginning of 2010 brought more good news.
A doggone miracle: George the Great Dane with the Nassers' daughter Annabel at home in Arizona
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