I get them confused, Fred and George. Not that they are same. Or even similar. They are nothing alike.
My confusion is remembering which name belongs to who.
The problem is that they both have human names and one is not.
For now, let's call the man Fred. And the dog, that will be George.
Fred is retired. So is George. Fred drives a car and is 65. George is 14, deaf and unable to jump. His vision is poor. I think he also has arthritis. But his sense of smell is excellent. For a dog, smell is the last thing to go.
To get George to the park for his daily walk, Fred has built a walkway, a sort of a long gangplank at a gentle incline so that George can walk up and into the back of the car. George is too big to lift.
George is slow. He does not run away in the park like the other dogs. He does not chase the squirrels. He does not even see them.
Fred retired ten years ago when he was 55. He found retirement boring, so he took a half-time job at a school. For 22 hours every week, Fred is the school’s custodian. “It is the best job I ever had,” he says. “I wish I’d had it my entire life.” The children are kind to Fred. He feels cared for.
So does George. Fred is kind to George and helps him into the car and takes him to the park every day.
Fred is the man. George is the dog. I think I’ve got that right.