Is This Body My George? : (Chapter 35)

The morning message

It was now Saturday, and Kerry and I were up early as we had the pallet posters to finish off, and I had received a message from a lady in a small village. She was explaining how a farmer had all of his chihuahuas stolen, and she thought I should speak to him. I wasn’t actually sure as to why yet I never discounted anything or anyone. So, we fed and walked the dogs and then off we went, stopping at every single bin or a huge tree and attached a poster.

Kerry’s happiness

Kerry was still kind of giddy at finding her dress yesterday, and she was busy on her phone as I was driving as she needed to fly over another 2–3 times for dress fittings. As I glanced over at her, I felt so grateful that she was happy as one thing being a mum if your children are sad it really does affect you. So, thankfully seeing her so happy was a feeling of such gratefulness.

Meeting the farmer

The lady had told us to meet her at the local supermarket and then we could follow her to the farmer’s house. Thankfully she was on time, and we got out of our cars, greeted each other and then we set off following her. “She seems nice, mum,” said Kerry. “Everyone is darling that has been helping me; in fact, for the rest of my life, I will never forget a single person that has helped me,” I replied.

Before we knew it, we were at the farmer’s house, and we all chatted, yes, his chihuahuas had been stolen. This was a difficult situation for me as he had been keeping them in a barn, so I just pray the person that stole them was because of this, and now they are living in homes and not a barn. Sometimes it’s easier to believe the fairy tales that pop into your head.

We thanked the lady and headed home.

The van incident

Just as we were taking the bend before my house, a blue/grey van passed us, yes, the same colour as the tights, with windows in the back, well you have never seen someone do a 3-point turn in one complete go, and there we were following at speed, honk… honk went the horn yet he never stopped instead he started speeding up. So, we speeded up, oh yes, all the way to Alhaurín, then he pulled up at a bar, we parked so close to him and jumped out, it was so funny as he was around 150 years old looking, no dog in his car, so we casually gave him a poster. We still believe to this day we frightened the poor sod.

Meeting Gordon

“Mum, should we meet Gordon somewhere?” asked Kerry. “Yes, darling, I will message him now,” I replied.

“Gordon… Kerry and I are going to walk over to Villa Franco in about 2 hours’ time, so get your fat arse in the bar and order our drinks,” I typed.

The next morning

All I can tell you about the next few hours is that I think it was messy, and goodness only knows how Kerry and I made it home; I hope we fed the dogs; I certainly remember how I felt the next morning, though.

“Kerry get up,” I yelled, “Mother, I feel sick,” she replied. “No, you don’t. It’s an illusion, and as soon as you take a shower, you will be brand new, get your arse into gear as we need to put up those pallet posters before it gets light, you know… in case we get caught and get into trouble.” I said.

Placing the pallets

I wonder if Kerry had a sit-down shower that morning, LOL. Before we knew it, we were loading the pallets into my car, still they were heavy, then we drove the 3-minute drive and positioned the pallets. Sounds silly, but just as we were about to drive off, I stopped and took photos of the pallets, not in case they were stolen but for a Facebook post. Cringe again, yet I had to keep this up.

Preparing for the market

Back home and kettle on, we then started filling my rucksack. Posters, pens, sellotape, staples. “Right, let’s hit that market, darling,” I said. “Can you believe we found my dress, mum?” she replied.

This was as difficult for my Kerry as it was for me, this was supposed to be her happy time, and I was ruining it. It took every strength in my being to say, “I know, darling, it’s amazing, and I can’t believe it.”

The market

We parked up at the market. “What’s the plan, mother bear?” she asked. “We split up, you hand out leaflets that end of the market, and I do this end,” I said. “But I can’t speak Spanish, mum,” she said. “And what do you want me to do about that? The posters are Spanish on one side; you are my daughter, so you can do this,” I replied.

The frustration for me was because everyone that goes to this market seemed to go every bloody week as they already knew about George. Please take a poster I would say… “You gave me one last week. I mean, there isn’t even a hot dog stand there; why the same people go week after week was a tad baffling.

The Yorkshire Terrier

“Excuse me,” I bellowed as there was a group of Spanish men chatting. “Have you seen my dog?” “Yes, he is dead in the road along to Alhaurín el Grande,” said a man. This man was holding a Yorkshire Terrier in his arms. “Please could you explain in more detail please so that I can go and look,” I said. Then I was calling Kerry.

The man with the Yorkshire Terrier

This man that spoke no English could see in my face as I was on my phone speaking to Kerry; I was explaining as to where I was in the market and to what this man had said. This man then said, “Please let me take you there.”

Kerry found us, and I said to the man where my car was; we all walked silently to my car. Kerry sat in the back of the car, and the man sat next to me, holding his Yorkshire Terrier.

The rotten body

It wasn’t until we were now supposedly close and he told me to pull up over there, and I watched as he and Kerry were walking briskly along the road that a kind of panic hit in. I parked my car, which had actually blocked a track, and I started running after them. Then I saw the moment:

“Mum, it’s George, mum, it’s him,” Kerry was uncontrollably sobbing. The man had tears in his eyes, and he was still holding his Yorkshire terrier. We were all looking at a totally rotten body that stank, and we were on a fast and busy road verge.

“Darling, this is not George; look at the white teeth, look,” I said. Oh my god, thankfully, the man stopped me as I was pointing so very close that I nearly touched them.

Calling Julie

So, this was one hell of a difficult situation as we weren’t sure, and we now needed a chip detector. I looked up at this Spanish man still holding his dog; I said, please, I will go and get my car and take you back to the market.

Whoever this man is, maybe he ran this dog over or knew who did, I will never know, but my goodness, he declined my offer of a lift, and he walked, definitely a 2–3 hour walk back to the Market.

I immediately called our Julie and said, “Kerry and I have a body, and we need a chip check.” “Send location, and I am on my way,” she replied.

The Guardia arrive

Then the Guardia turned up, they were so concerned about Kerry and I on the verge of a busy road, then they saw the body, and they went back to their car and got out a chip reader.

No bleep, nothing, gosh they scanned and scanned and nothing. Our Julie arrives; it was surreal as I was for some reason taking photos, so many photos of this rotten body. Oh, it stank so bad. It was retch after retch. I must have been dehydrated from all the beers yesterday as I never pissed myself once.

The complete back end of this body was like mush; no one knew what to do as all I could keep saying was: do you think it’s him over and over again.

White nail doubts

We all decided to go and stand in a safer place across the road where there was an old pub car park from a bar that had closed down. “I wonder why the man didn’t tell me to park here,” I said. “He probably did run him over, mum, and he didn’t know where the body had landed,” said Kerry. “In a strange way, if he did, I am so grateful that he has brought me here,” I said.

The police explained how they didn’t think it was George as there was too much hair, plus the no chip, but they left it for us to decide. Our Julie, Kerry and I were now looking at all the photos that I had taken. “White nail,” shouted our Julie. “It’s not George then, as his were all black,” said Kerry.

I then walked to the end of the car park to find some shade as in my head I really did think that George did have one white nail, not bright white yet very pale, so nearly white. Scrolling through all the pictures of my George, I found just one, one photo was enough that showed George had one white nail on his back right paw. Tears streaming down my face, and I passed my phone to our Julie, “Is this the same nail?” I asked.

Our Julie just dismissed it, she then went on to say how common one white nail is, how she had just spoken to her vet and her vet assures her that the teeth are too young, “I don’t think it’s George,” said our Julie. Then a Spanish lady turned up that I had met before on our second search, she looked at the body, and she said immediately, “No, this is a long-haired dog.”

Gordon arrives

I was in such a two and eight, pacing up and down. I then called Gordon, “What are you doing?” I said. “Laying on the sofa in just my pants feeling fuzzy from yesterday,” he replied. “Well, put some clothes on and get to the old bar on the Alhaurín road as fast as you can,” I said. “Uuuuufff ok,” he replied.

As he turned up, I just pointed, then I started shouting: “Is it him? Do you think it’s him? “No chip, then it can’t be,” he said. “Looks like him a bit, hard to say as it’s a bit rotten,” he said.

The final decision

Then we had a meeting all kind of huddled in the car park. “Christine, you have to call this, as the moment you say it’s George, we have to stop people searching for him,” our Julie said. “F…, sorry, I need to go look one more time at the body,” I said. They all patiently waited for me as I was prodding with a stick then turning around to retch. “No, it’s not George,” I said. As we all said our goodbyes, I kept focusing on the white teeth; shit George had dirty yellow teeth; Steve’s are actually grey, so this is impossible to be George.

Airport reality

Kerry was now focused on the fact that the body wasn’t George, and we then realized the sad fact that I had to take her to the airport in an hour’s time. I always thought that time only went super-fast when you are having a good time; I can assure you that is not a true fact.

Airport goodbye

As I pulled up in the airport, I knew that because I am the mum that I had to own this and hold it together. Kerry sobbed and hugged me; I went into robotic mode and said all the words like, don’t you worry about me, I will find him. As I drove off, the tears just wouldn’t stop, so I actually had to pull over and give myself a right good talking to and a quick slap.

It’s a strange feeling when you walk in the door after dropping someone off at the airport; it doesn’t take long, though, before you remember, you can walk around in just your pants and wee with the door open.

Back home alone

So now dogs fed and feeling so strange, I flopped on the sofa and just couldn’t stop looking at all the photos of this body. It was the strangest feeling in the world, as to why wouldn’t I know if this was George or not. It was so frustrating as every telltale sign was missing. The back end was totally rotten, so we didn’t know if the dog had balls; the fur was completely gone from the tail.

My phone was still bleeping, and I took a glance, and it was messages of: are you ok? All I could think was I will never be OK; I will never be the same person ever again. I then put the kettle on and decided to write another Facebook post while I waited for Kerry to tell me she was home.

Facebook post number 30

“AN UPDATE ON GEORGE”

George is still missing. I have had some calls today; we are so getting close. Please don’t give up on George; when I say close, what I mean is George is now becoming so well known. What we all have to remember is that it took 4 weeks to know that George was picked up in a blue/grey small van with windows in the back. Today at the market, there were still people that didn’t know about George, or there were people that only knew yesterday.

Please don’t give up on him as George needs our help. Thursday evening, I picked up my daughter from the airport ok a little later than expected due to the France airstrikes. My daughter’s flights were booked many months ago, and it was all arranged by my best friend’s daughter to go wedding dress shopping. Obviously, my daughter didn’t care about her dress shopping and was here to concentrate on looking for George.

A mother’s strength

I am a mum, and I have 4 other dogs Steve, Kev, Peter and Jeremy, that I love to the moon and stars and back, and I have to look after them and give them special attention throughout this nightmare. However, my daughter is the most important person in the world, yes we went, and we took the appointment, and yes she found her dress, the one, the most amazing dress that since George went missing it was the first time that I cried and it wasn’t about George. (Then the emotions hit me, and I had to be so strong).

Please, with all this help that I am receiving with sharing I can get on with sellotaping posters to bins etc., and know that you are all there helping with social media. I have also had to look at the most graphic terrible things throughout this terrible nightmare.

Each time I post, I have tears running down my face, and we have all said it “If I lost my dog,” it has happened to me, and I can promise it is the worst thing ever in the world to happen.

Please don’t judge me, reward, no reward, please understand and don’t judge me, and yes, I have received wicked messages. However, the good is so outweighing the bad.

Where are you George?

“WHERE ARE YOU GEORGE, SOMEONE KNOWS.”

“Christine are you there?” messaged our Julie. “You know I am back looking at the body, don’t you,” I messaged. “You need me to come,” she replied. “No,” I said.

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