Terri and I were talking yesterday about how young we were when we first knew we were ‘dog people.’ We were so young, we don’t remember the stories ourselves. These are stories our parents tell.
I was four. We didn’t have a dog, but one day my family went to the beach with another family who had a boxer. I ignored the other children and played with the dog. She liked to swim and went into the water. I followed. Everyone watched, amazed, as I copied her and swam for the first time–a dog taught me how to dog paddle!
Terri was also very young. Her family went to visit friends who had two fearsome German Shepherds. The owners shut the dogs in another room and warned everyone to stay away from them. Sometime later, they noticed Terri missing. Alarmed, everyone went looking, hoping she hadn’t wandered into the dogs’ room. They found her there, in her little pink dress, curled up asleep between the two big bad dogs!
When did you—or your family–first realize you were a dog person?
Posted in Your Stories
Tagged border collies, children, dogs, family, inspiration, pictures
Tulley plays fetch with a young friend.
We were delighted with Tulley’s progress. We played the “touch and treat” game with as many people as possible and took him to a weekly agility class, where he moved, joyful and carefree, through the equipment, one obstacle at a time. He enjoyed inviting people to play fetch. Fetch allowed Tulley to work his “comfort zone.” Playing fetch seemed to be the only way Tulley was comfortable with children. I knew, if a child were to run up and touch him, he would have bitten him.
I called Tulley’s owner, Karen. “I’m pleased to tell you that he’s better-behaved with adult strangers.”
“How about children?” Karen said. Their daughter had already sustained one serious bite wound—they could not let it happen again.
“Well, he’s still uneasy with children when they come close, but he will play fetch with them.”
“Will we ever be able to completely trust him with our daughter?”
What could never be again.
“I wish I could make you that promise, Karen, but I can’t.”
“Ever?” Her voice quavered.
“I want more than anything to make you that promise, but I’d be remiss in giving you that guarantee.”
Karen sobbed as she spoke. “I understand. I’ll talk to my husband and let you know if we’d like you to continue the training.”
I hung up the phone, my heart heavy.
A few days later, Karen called. “What happens to Tulley if we can’t take him back? We couldn’t stand for anything bad to happen to him.”
“I’ll try to place him in a home without young children.”
She started to cry, this time so hard that her husband Jim took the phone from her. “If you’re absolutely sure that you can’t make him safe for our daughter, we’d like you to find him a new home.” Even Jim could barely speak the words.
When my husband got home later that day, we discussed Tulley’s fate. Ed agreed Karen and Jim were making the right choice. I told him I was afraid Tulley would lose ground during a re-homing process. “But the longer he stays with us, the more bonded he is. That’s going to make the transfer into a new home even more difficult.”
Ed sighed. “I don’t know, Terri.” He gazed at Tulley, who sat panting and watching us as if he knew we were talking about him. “We’ve always felt a kind of kindred spirit with Tulley, haven’t we?”
I smiled. Tulley had shown an immediate fondness for Ed. “You know,” I said, “Tulley chose you to be his person.”
Tulley and his chosen person, Ed
I called Karen. “Ed and I decided that Tulley will stay with us.”
“Really, you’ll keep him? I’m so happy!”
“Yes”, I said, “Ed and I have gotten very fond of him, and we’re concerned that he’d lose ground if he were re-homed.”
“I can’t thank you enough.”
“To tell you the truth, we’re thrilled to have him,” I said. “But will you do one thing for me?”
“Anything.”
“Will you let me find the perfect dog for your family?”
“Yes, please,” she said, laughing. “Nothing would make us happier.”
It came to pass that a sweet, two-year-old female Border Collie named Raine entered our lives.
Raine’s previous family had acquired her from me as a puppy. All new families make me a promise that if for any reason during the lifetime of their dogs they can no longer keep them, they must return them to me. My kids are always welcome to come back home, regardless of the circumstances.
Raine’s family, due to personal issues, could no longer keep her, but they were a nice family with a few young children whom Raine adored. The day the family brought her back to me, I will never forget. Three very young children embraced Raine while tears poured from their eyes and ran down their soft little cheeks. Raine stayed close, obviously sensing their sadness, licking their tears away as quickly as she could. As she watched them load into their vehicle, she became slightly frantic, sensing that separation from “her pack” was imminent. She paced, whined, and pulled on the leash as they drove away, leaving her behind.
It took Raine time to come out of her depression. Eventually settled into our day-to-day, however, she always seemed to harbor an underlying sadness. One particular day Raine was out in the front with my husband while he was doing some yard work. She was so mindful and well behaved that she would never leave the property, but this day, Ed called to me, “Terri! Have you seen Raine?”
I looked but didn’t see her anywhere. Then, a few houses away, I heard children’s laughter. “I think I know where I’ll find Raine.” I followed the sound of the children’s play. There amongst many young children sat Raine. She was the happiest I’d seen her since she lost her previous family.
Right then and there, I knew what I had to do. I left her playing with the children and went to make a phone call.
Posted in Mean Dog
Tagged border collies, dogs, herding dogs, inspiration, pictures, rescue, sheepdogs, stockdogs
Sometimes when we come home after dark, this cane toad meets us on our doorstep.
Last night when he practically held the door for us, I suggested we follow the experts’ advice and kill the doorman.
My husband said, “As soon as we kill him, we let our guard down. Then the one we haven’t seen moves in.”
I said, “So this one’s a ‘reminder toad?’ Do we need a ‘reminder rattlesnake?'”
“What we need is a toad-proof dog.”
Cane toads are toxic. They’ve killed many a Florida dog. When threatened, the cane toad’s defense is to sit still, which is some comfort to those of us with motion-activated dogs like Border Collies. One time, though, our toad hopped, and Mick’s reflex was to go for it. That’s all it takes. Educate yourself so you know what to do if it happens to your dog–rinse and run! Rinse the gums immediately and away from the throat for fifteen minutes, then run to the vet.
I’ve got the stomach to kill a toxic toad if I have to, but I’m a soft-hearted thinker. Do I really have to? It’s not the toad’s fault he’s a toxic invasive species any more than it’s my fault the human race is a toxic invasive species. I’m a trap-and-transport kind of woman and a toad-proofer. Whacking them or chopping them up is just mean and it splatters poison around. They say the trick is to stick them in the freezer for a few days. Then throw the body out–unless you want to keep it to make a hat or purse. But I digress.
I’m leery of the death penalty–sometimes the condemned is innocent. What if I got the wrong toad? There’s one in town who looks a lot like a cane toad. The smaller, look-alike Southern Toad innocently rids the world of pests. The good toad has horns, the bad toad doesn’t, but if you toad-proof your dog’s yard, you probably won’t need to go looking for horns.
A friend recently wrote me: “I understand the problem and danger of invasive species. However, I cannot kill an animal who by no fault of his own is in a bad situation. I also know the cane toads are legion. One dead toad will never make a dent in the problem. I take them to a retention pond along the interstate and release them. Is this the right thing to do? Can’t say. But I know I can’t deal with the alternative. What I do know is if you have one, you have more. So watch your dogs.”
August 4, 2013 in Pictures and Posters
Tagged border collies, dogs, health, humor, pictures, sheepdogs, stockdogs
It was time to call Bud’s previous family. I needed details about his past.
When a woman answered, I said, “Hi, my name is Terri, and I currently have Buddy.”
“Oh!” She tried to say more, but began to cry.
I took charge of the conversation. “It’s okay. I know you tried everything. It’s not easy.” I explained my involvement. “It would really help Buddy if I had detail about his past.”
“My husband and I got him as a puppy from a breeder,” she said, eager to help. “Things just weren’t right with him from the start, and we talked to her many times.” The breeder had refused to take him back and wasn’t helpful with training recommendations. Buddy was an unusually quirky Border Collie puppy who posed a unique set of challenges for her and her husband, none of which they were equipped to handle. Over the years they worked with various trainers, sadly, with no success. When their first child came along, they sought help from a new trainer in the hopes of building a successful relationship between the dog and their child. The new instructor’s training method did not suit Buddy at all—his behavior escalated out of control. “We were told that the only options left were rescue or euthanasia.” She began to cry again. “We were devastated. But we couldn’t trust him around the baby.”
“Of course not,” I said gently. “You did the right thing.”
“Do you think . . . is there any chance of managing his behavior? We’d really like to take him back.”
“Perfect! That’s my goal.” What else could I say? The possibility of finding Buddy another home was slim to none.
Now that I knew from his previous owner a training regimen had made him fearful of training, I confirmed it. Whenever I attempted basic obedience skills, he was adverse and dismissive. I was determined to help this dog understand that I would never cause him anguish or pain. He needed a total life do-over.
They say that when a dog needs a fresh start, change his name. In case using his name in a particular circumstance reminded him of an unpleasant experience, I decided to rename Buddy. Thinking the name should have a similar suffix to his previous name so as to ease with the transition into the new name, I decided to call him Tulley. The name Tulley is a nice Irish/Gaelic name that means Living with the Peace with God, which I felt apropos.
Once Tulley became familiar with the “touch” technique, he wiggled with excitement when playing the “touch” game. I now needed to devise another technique that would promote closeness and trust. I observed that when he sat by my husband he pressed his head against his body. I decided that we would promote “hug,” offering treats and praise each time he pressed against someone. Since my husband was his person of choice, I recruited him to introduce the process of “hug.” Just like “touch” the game of “hug” became a joyful and rewarding task. No doubt the highly delectable treats were a motivator as well. Tulley also had a very high play drive that would helpful when promoting interaction with strangers. A game of “fetch” always gave him an opportunity for a positive experience. I was full of joy watching Tulley play “fetch,” “touch,” and “hug” with as many people as I could get to work with him.
I soon began brainstorming what I had to teach Tulley to get him back to his family. Their young child was a concern. It is impossible to teach a very young child how to be responsible with a dog—especially one that will bite. So, how do you teach the dog how to be safe for a home with a child?
Posted in Mean Dog
Tagged border collies, dogs, philosophy, pictures, rescue, sheepdogs, stockdogs
Humor courtesy of https://www.facebook.com/ILuvBorderCollies “Like” their page!
 | Mat Matlack on Meet the Royal Bahamian P… |
 | Albert on Dusty, Part 3 |
 | Lisa Lanser Rose on Mind Your Monks and Scold Your… |
The Border Collie Inquisitor 