Xander is like a marshmallow: he's soft, fluffy, sweet, and when he's on fire, he runs fast.
Ok, that last bit was maybe a stretch unless you've recently made S'mores over an open flame and know how runny marshmallows get when they are hot. And that Xander is a giant weenie in every capacity unless he is doing agility or playing frisbee, in which case he is on fire and runs crazy fast.
So perhaps not the clearest metaphor, but marshmallow is really what I think of when I look at him. He is a mush. He is a love. He gives you this look as you pet him that is complete, undeniable adoration. And most of the time he tries to pet you back.
But I am getting ahead of myself. Let me start at the beginning.
I had finally made it to a stable, self-sufficient stage in my life, in my own apartment, just myself and my two grown corgis, when I decided that life was entirely too boring. What's a good way to remedy this situation? Get a border collie puppy! I'd heard for many, many, many years that border collies could only be owned by those with acreage, livestock, and an endless supply of patience. The horror stories on the internet and word of mouth painted these intelligent dogs as willfully destructive when given anything less than optimal exercise and mental stimulation. However, they were also tauted for their intelligence, trainability, tireless work ethic, and reknowned as agility and frisbee dogs. Having only owned and trained small dogs, I was eager to try my hand at a "big dog," even though at 20 and a quarter inches and 39 pounds, I consider him a very good and moderate size.
At first, I was only toying with the idea, and still had cold feet about actually making the switch to the "dark side" (as border collie owners are referred to). I looked online at dogs available for rescue and was captivated by a small, red and white female named Bella. She had prick ears, which I love, and was only about 25 pounds and roughly 6 months old. I took Kirby with me to see her, as finding a playmate for him was also a large part of my motivation. Sadly, she had the same temperment as so many intelligent dogs who have had a rocky start in life. She had virtually no interest in me or Kirby, and was keen on trying to get out of the little yard and into the bigger one nearby. Given the time and motivation, I know she could have been rehabilitated, but I did not want this to be my first experience with the breed. At this point, I was told that there was also a litter of 3 week old puppies, kept a secret at this point but for a select few. Although I had been looking at older dogs, my eyes lit up at the mention of puppies.
I melted at the sight of a trio of three week old pups: 2 females and a male. One female was a striking black and white, while the other two had freckles to augment their black and white coloration. Jerri, who has been rescuing border collies for 25 years, decided to give me pick of the litter based on my history and interest in performace sports, and the fact that I was the first one to express interest in the litter. I made the trip to Daytona weekly after that in order to visit with the puppies, watch them grow, and make the difficult decision of which puppy to choose. From my very first trip, I was taken by the big, freckled boy and his comically loud vocalizations when it came time for dinner. I was also enamoured by the beautifully marked black and white female. In my weekly visits, I grew more and more fond of the boy, who was by far the most interested in visiting with me. He would plant himself across my lap as I sat on the floor, and in spite of being picked up and encouraged to play outside with his sisters, he would return to cuddle with me. How could I not fall in love? I never really had a choice, as the puppy had made it for me.
Although I continued to admire the striking female, my focus turned to the boy, and by five weeks, my decision was made. The poor dog probably spent the first two months of his life thinking that I had a camera for a hand, as it was constantly attached to me and aimed at his face. It's no wonder he manages to look tortured in every picture I've attempted to take in his adult life.
At eight weeks old, after five weekly trips to Daytona to visit, I was able to take him home with me. It had been over 6 years since I'd raised a baby puppy, given that Kirby was already almost five months old when I brought him home. The next few months cured me of my "puppy fever" as my time was spent with this little creature who knew nothing, had to potty constantly, wanted to chew everything, and LOVED to bark. However, he also loved to give hugs, was a champion snuggler, extremely adorable, smart, fast learning, and eager to please. We made it through the toughest parts of puppyhood without any major casualties or property damage (save a couple spots of carpet). He came to work with me everyday, learned lots of cute tricks, and EVENTUALLY was potty trained.
Along the way I taught him to love the frisbee, and finally, having wanted one since being a small child myself, I now have a certified frisbee nut. Even though we've only competed a few times and I am the weak half of the team, I LOVE playing frisbee with him and delight in his enthusiasm and athleticism in catching and chasing the disc.
He also learned to love agility. I am proud that I knew enough to never correct him for mistakes, as he is naturally inclined to be a "soft dog" and would have been easily discouraged. Instead, I have focused entirely on having a party when he is correct, and as a result, he is fast, driven, and happy. We have had extreme success in our first handful of competitions, and I continue to learn more from him about handling a "big dog." Running a corgi and running a border collie are indeed two VERY different things! I feel that at a little over two years old, I finally know who he is and we have developed a wonderful relationship with each other. I am excited that our partnership and teamwork will only continue to improve.
So although he lets Kirby boss him around, will roll over and submit if you look at him sternly, and barks like a fool at nothing, he never fails to keep me company in the bathroom, greet me with more enthusiasm than I thought possible (even if I've only been gone 5 minutes), give 150% at anything I ask of him, and make me smile everyday. Although there were times when I questioned my sanity at choosing a border collie, I adore him and have absolutely no regrets. He gets me out of bed in the mornings, keeps me active when I don't feel like getting off the couch, and is the perfect buddy for any adventure I could ever choose. I am so lucky to have him!
No comments:
Post a Comment