More Introductions

I have to go back in time just a little bit to introduce you to John and Cynthia. Back in 2003, at Louise's trial, John and Cynthia stopped by to watch the trial. They were there with their cattle dog Midget (I think). I remember seeing them at the trial quite vividly. Cynthia has this long, multicoloured coat, I call it her blanket coat, she was wearing it that day which caused me to wonder who the hippies were.

John and Cynthia had just purchased their farm a few months prior to that trial and since they had some herding dogs, decided to watch the trial. We became fast friends. They would bring their Border Collies Pam and Dixie over and practice with us at Louise's. Cynthia started coming to a few trials with Louise and I and very soon we became known as "The Trio".

Over the years, the three of us have shared many successes and failures together. Unfortunately, I don't remember Cynthia's first trial. I DO recall her first Alasdair clinic at Dal and Kate's. As it turned out, her first clinic there turned out to be the last clinic Dal and Kate were to have with Alasdair. Cynthia is a red head through and through. She wears her emotions on her sleeve. It is one of the things that I love most about her.

In 2005, at this particular clinic, her turn came up. I won't try to tell you what was going through her mind as I can only imagine, based on my own experience. The feeling of going to a clinic is filled with anticipation and always a few nerves. On one hand, we want our dogs to do everything we ask but on the other hand, we want them to do everything wrong so we can get help fixing the problem. I imagine Cynthia was working on lying Pam down. That seems to be Cynthia and Pam's ongoing challenge. I digress. Cynthia and Pam were up and all the "clinic goers" were watching. The fact that others are watching, makes things even more nerve wracking. Alasdair asked Cynthia to show him what she and Pam were working on. She sent Pam and when Pam zoomed around, Cynthia asked Pam to stop. Of course Pam would have none of that stopping business. Alasdair calmly asked Cynthia to make Pam stop. Cynthia walked over to Pam and pushed her on the back to make her lie down. Repeat the exercise. Pam didn't lie down. Alasdair took Cynthia by the elbow and led her around showing her where to be in order to get a successful stop. It is not uncommon to be led around by the elbow regardless of how 'good' you may or may not be. Neither Louise nor I had communicated this gesture to Cynthia. When she was finished her lesson, she burst into tears and said "I didn't think I was that bad!" We couldn't help but laugh since we had all been dragged around a field more than once.

Shortly after Cynthia's lesson, it was Louise's turn with Clare. Louise was working on shedding and, after Louise explained the problem, Alasdair quite simply asked Louise what she was doing wrong. They proceeded to work on diagnosing what she was doing wrong and mere moments later, I watched Alasdair SHOVE Louise through the gap in the sheep. I grabbed Cynthia to show her, driving home the point that it has nothing to do with being good or bad really, it has to do with trying to learn.

Three years later, Cynthia has learned a lot although she and Pam still struggle with stopping on occasion.

Anthropormorphism

noun ~ attribution of human characteristics or behavior to a god, animal or object.

Each and every dog has a unique personality complete with it's own set of idiosyncrasies. Spike with his paralyzing fear of the car, Nik terrified of flies, Data and his aversion to being dirty and the list goes on and on. We endeavor not to anthropomorphize the dogs but, it is always good for a laugh when we do exactly that.

Time and time again my dogs make me laugh largely because of what I imagine is going on in their heads.

At the Kingston Sheep Dog Trial one year, Data and I were having a pretty good go. We were halfway up the drive away and he had over flanked. I needed him to come back around in order to get the sheep moving again. I had him stopped and asked for a flank. He looked at me and I swear he said "Try again.". I asked for the flank again "Nope, try again woman". I screamed "DATA! COME BYE". Data responded with a tip of his head in the away to me direction saying "What about this way instead?". That tiny movement of his head caused the sheep to get moving again. When I asked him for an away to me and he took it, I immediately realized that I had repeatedly been giving him the wrong flank. Boy, did I feel like a fool.

Often sheep farms have electric fence to keep predators out and sheep in. Data is a bit of a dunce when it comes to electric fence. He has gotten zapped on more than one occasion. One day I was farm sitting and ignorantly grabbed on to some live electric fence. YeeeOWCH. My arm was numb for about 20 minutes. Data looked at me and laughed "I told you it hurts!".

Louise has a little terrier dog named Terra. Holy Terra. She is part Border Collie and part Border Terrier. She tried all day once to kill Nik. Not in the way you may think though. She would run into the marsh making sure Nik was following her and then deke out and run back up toward the house. Nik, being gullible, fell for her ruse time after time. He would go 'gallumping' into the marsh, "Which way did she go? Which way did she go?" kersplash! the reeds in the marsh would sway from one side to the other with his less than delicate approach to finding her. Terra would watch him come out, giggle the way a 10 year old girl does when she has succeeded in teasing a 10 year old little boy and run all the way back up to the house. Nik would see her and say "There she is!" and chase her, only to repeat the whole scene many times over. "Which way did she go?" kersplash, gallump, "There she is!", and Terra giggling over the absurdity of it all. Terra loves boy Border Collies, oh how she torments them.

The first time Louise met Spike she pegged him as gay right away. Spike epitomized the gay man stereotype. If he could have snapped his fingers he would have. He was so flamboyant. From the moment Louise 'outted' Spike, he spoke with a lisp. When he went to bite someone and get corrected for it, he'd smile and say "Oopth, he just made me nervouth." He would wander straight to the road. I would holler and scream for him to come back but he just appeared to lift his paw at me, "Talk to the paw girlfriend, I'm buthy". 'snap'.

Data, on occasion, will pass gas, he never EVER farts he is far too proper for that. He pretends it wasn't him, sitting there as if nothing happened, unless there is another dog in the room to blame it on. If there is another dog present, he'll toot , turn around and, in an admonishing voice, say, "Who did that? That's disgusting.", tsk the other dog and turn back around.

I suppose humanizing them endears them to us just that much more. As though we need to intensify the bond we already have with them. Working with them on a regular basis, not just training and competing but needing their expertise, creates a bond unlike any other I have experienced. They become our partners. They listen to us gripe about trivial things without judging, they comfort us when we are sad and scarcely complain about anything.

Perhaps Alasdair said it best in a 1999 interview with Time magazine:
"'Dogs give you their all,' says MacRae, sipping black coffee. 'They return any affection tenfold. They're not gonna say nothin' behind your back.' A grin creases the guru's windburned face. "On the whole, they're just nicer than folk.'"

And Then There Were Four

Fall 2003, Louise had decided to host a trial. After practicing all summer, I was good and ready to compete with Data in this trial. Data and I didn't fare too poorly at this trial, we got a 5th place on the second day if I recall correctly. This achievement, in my mind, made us good enough to move up a class to Pro-Novice. I moved him up against nearly everyone's advice and, with that wonderful 20/20 hindsight, i realize now that I shouldn't have. This sport is a team sport and both members of the team need to be ready for the next class. Data was certainly ready but I was not. Today, Data and I are still struggling to get through a Pro-Novice course. Some would argue that we should have left the sport by now out of sheer frustration. Believe me, I have had my tear-filled moments when I have wanted to quit but, I struggle through.

At Louise's trial there was some chatter about a retiring open dog that might be available. I really didn't pay much mind to the chatter practically until his leash was in my hand. That's how I met Boss.

One of the best things a novice handler can do is run a retired open dog in Pronovice. Boss was almost literally dropped in my lap. Although he was nine years old, the price was spot on and he became an offer I couldn’t refuse. I worked with Boss over the winter and took him to Alasdair's clinic the following spring at Dal and Kate’s. Alasdair stood beside me and literally told me what to do. After a couple of days with Alasdair, I started to get a feel for driving and handling. I remember working Boss the last day of the clinic, Alasdair at my side telling me nothing. He said to me, "If you keep working him like that, you are going to win a lot of dog trials." I beamed.

As I have mentioned before it takes some time to get to know a new dog. I spent the summer using Boss for chores at Louise's farm. Boss has never been difficult to get along with and he has always been handy.

One evening, Louise went down to the barn to do some chores. She didn't need a dog so she didn't take one. Once she was there though, she realized she did need a dog and didn't have one. She started to walk up to the house and there was Boss waiting at the gate. Since Boss was handy, she opened the gate for him and he helped her out. Boss would work for anyone as long as they were fair.

On our walks, Boss would get lost in the long grass. He would stop and bark just once so I could find him and show him the way. He was responsive and obedient. He knew exactly what to do, far better than I did. My clumsiness with my flanks became very apparent. I would ask him for a flank, often a wrong flank that made no sense to him. He would indicate with his head the direction I asked, but wouldn't go. I learned so much from him that summer. He showed me how to pen, he helped me learn to use that diabolical whistle. He gave me everything he had and then some. If I had to pick things I didn't like about Boss I would have to say he ran too wide, and he bit the other dogs in the head at the door, and he ate stuff. Most notably, a corn cob that nearly killed him.

In June of 2005 I ran Boss in the Milton trial. Our run felt really good to me. No chaos, no screaming or dog running amok. Boss just brought the sheep to me in an orderly fashion. Around the course and into the pen. I had never penned in competition before so I was pleased. I stood at the exhaust while Boss relaxed and cooled off in the tub. During that moment I felt satisfied. I watched the next run and patted ole' Boss. I reflected on our work and relished in the fact that we had simply done good work.

As I walked back to the truck with him, people were coming up to me and congratulating me, strangers wanted to talk to me, I was being interviewed for a newspaper or a TV show. It was a strange contrast to the pensive solitude I had enjoyed only moments ago, just Boss and I. I did my best to answer their questions, “Boss just made me look good.” “He did all the work.”. It was absolutely true. I had only helped Boss a little bit.

Finally, I was able to put Boss up and Louise was coming toward me, holding up her index finger - #1. When she got closer she said to me “That was the first place run, it had to be. “ I was incredulous. She was right, we won that day. The next day Boss lost his sheep at the top, took them back to the set out pen and we were done. Such is the nature of dog trialling.

My trial career was cut short with Boss. He ate that corn cob at the age of 10 and ended up having to have almost all of his small intestine removed. He continued to work for a while but I never competed with him after that but he never stopped wanting to work.

He lived to be 14 years old.

Our First Trial

As it turned out, I didn't need to know how to turn the post at that trial.

As I walked to the post, the fact that I could remember my own name and my Dog's name was remarkable. My legs were rubber. My stomach was twisted in knots and my bladder was demanding attention. Today, I have a better handle on the knee-knocking and churning stomach but my bladder continues to haunt me. It is something that occurs often, comically, amongst handlers. Novices and pros alike all seem to have the need to relieve their bladders just prior to their run.

My hands shook as I removed Data's leash. My mind was reeling with questions, Do I take his leash off before I start walking to the post or once I get there? Where do I put the leash? What do I do with this stick in my hand? I have a tendency to over think and over analyze just about everything. I have since come up with an approach to the post that works for me. Helps me to manage the nervousness. I watch the runs before mine to make sure that Data knows where the sheep are, at least that's what I tell myself. In actuality, I think it is more for me than for him. I walk to the judge and introduce myself and my dog. I feel this is a good habit to get into since, occasionally, the judges don't have that information. I take off my dog's leash, lie him down and pat him as I watch for our sheep to come out. As they are coming out I get him to walk on my side, the side I intend to send him. Part way to the post I stop, lie him down, pat him again, then continue to the post. This exercise really helps me quell my nerves. Our first trial I just walked out to the post and sent my dog.

I earned my first set of letters at that trial DQ – disqualified, get off the field, you’re done – in judge speak ‘Thank you’. I am fortunate to have the video of that run. He bit them and I stood there like a lump wondering what to do. In competition, this behavior known as a grip, quite quickly earns you a DQ. My inexperience, my nerves and all the other factors I have mentioned, contributed to the fact that I, quite simply, didn’t tell Data to lie down. Ok, after the judge said ‘thank you’ I did.

I think, back then, if I had actually told Data to lie down, he probably would have.

Preparation for Our First Trial

April came and with it a clinic with Alasdair Macrae at Dal and Kate's. Alasdair knew Data fairly well. When I brought Data out, Alasdair commented that Data was already better. What I recall most from that clinic was that I had to do all I could to build Data's confidence in himself and in me. Keep everything fun.

I have a wonderful habit of thoroughly embracing each and every one of my lessons. I kept everything fun alright. To a fault. I didn't understand that I could keep things fun but insist on him doing it correctly as well. Five years later I think I understand it now. The key was to work faster with him. Get him to lie down then give him a flank straight away. The problem was [and still is to a certain extent] that I wasn't good with my flanks. I would get him to lie down and then had to think about which flank was which. While I was thinking, Data was lying there... waiting... wallowing. My thinking made lying down a punishment for him. In very short order I taught Data NOT to lie down by asking him to lie down.

Back then, the sheep at Louise’s were allowed to graze up on the hill behind her house, and we would work the dogs up there. Louise was at my side on more than one sunny day up on that hill, walking me through some exercises with Data. We would let the sheep start to run away and let Data go and catch them. That was fun for Data. We worked on stops and flanks and just spent time having fun together. It takes quite a while to get working with a started or a trained dog. They say about ten months and I would have to agree. I'm sure there are exceptions to this as there are always exceptions to every rule.

There was a trial in Milton and we were going. Louise with Kit and Clare, me with Data. It was in June 2003 and there were only a few weeks to prepare. Data and I were going to be stars! I didn’t seem to remember that I had had this exact thought twice before and, even if I had remembered, I believed that this was going to be different.

One afternoon before the trial, I was working with Andrea. Seemingly out of the blue, she asked me if I knew how to turn the post. Excuse me? Do what? Clearly, I had no clue. Andrea explained it, I tried it. She explained it again. I tried again. I didn’t get it at all. I’m sure I drove her insane that day. She was remarkably patient with me, repeating herself a billion times or more. I think I got close to kinda getting around the post and that was where the lesson ended. Once we had gone inside for a drink Andrea tried to show me with coins and salt and pepper shakers. I am relatively certain the question marks above my head were visible to her and everyone else sitting around the table.

Turning the post is surprisingly difficult to do well. I have been to clinics where we have spent the entire two days working on just that. At the time of my upcoming debut with Data I really felt as though I should have been able to comprehend something like this.

This sport has a curious way of making one quite humble and feel quite stupid. Kate has said, on more than one occasion "My name is Kate, DVM, PhD and I can't get this exercise." Well she says it a bit more colourfully than that but, the point is the same.

The weeks passed, I practiced, Louise practiced and before I knew it, I was headed to my first dog trial.

Bringing Home Baby

This is where the story really begins. I gave Dal and Kate a money order for Data. Kate's only bit of advice to me then was "He'll keep you honest about your kitchen." Kate, no truer words have ever been spoken.

Today, I consider both Dal and Kate dear friends. Kate has offered me some more words of wisdom around the campfire with the courage that only vino collapso can offer.

I loaded Data into my truck and headed home. It was pretty late, and the five hour drive home turned into a seven hour drive due to a navigational error. Data was a perfect gentleman the whole trip.

When we arrived home, Data made his way up the stairs, through the front door, down the hall and straight to my bed. PLOP! He was home and we all knew it. I finally had a proper dog. Little did I know how proper he really was. Data is now affectionately called 'Thistle Dew Sissy Pants'. He refuses to get dirty. There is one exception to this, the day he fell in the 'pit'.

Data does not like to lie in the tub to cool down, especially when the water is dirty. He will sit in water, clean water please, if he is very very hot. Overheating hot. Otherwise, "Talk to the paw woman, that water is gross!" If he gets wet from the grass while working sheep, or dirty from the barnyard while working sheep that is acceptable to him. I have watched my little Sissy Pants go around puddles, and hop over mud. I guess if my dogs are going to be in the house, having one that refuses to get dirty is a good thing. I recall a dog trial where he felt the need to get his feet wet which he will do from time to time. Step in the tub with all four feet and step right back out. As he lifted a front paw to get in the tub, he noticed the state of the water and put that paw back down on the ground. There were some spectators watching, they laughed at him and said. "I don't blame you! that water's dirty!" It's that obvious how much he dislikes dirt.

We settled into a bit of a daily routine with walks. I tried to play ball with him at the dog park but that was just stupid to him. At the dog park someone decided they knew how to teach a dog to fetch, just use treats. Data went for the ball, brought it back, dropped it and got a treat. Next time he ran out for the ball, dropped it, came back for his treat. Dal took on this project once. Only once. He had a piece of pie crust on his plate, tossed the ball for Data and Data just grabbed the pie crust off Dal's plate. Data doesn't play fetch but will certainly help you with the scraps off your plate. Thank you very much!

I wonder what the Sane People are doing?

Data, Dal and I then proceeded to the smaller field so I could have a go with Data. It was bitter cold out. Kate was watching from the warmth and comfort of the house. As Dal and I were walking in the wind, teeth chattering Dal asked, "I wonder what the sane people are doing?". To this day, I hear those words each time I go out in abominable weather to work a dog. As time ticks on, I realize more and more that one does have to be a little bit insane to endure this sport. The incredible high of even the minutest amount of success pushes me to endure further humiliation.

All I had ever done with a dog up to that point, was ask the dog to go around the sheep and, if by some miracle, the dog actually got there then I knew to ask the dog to lie down. So, that’s what I did with Data. The sheep were standing about 50 yards away. Dal had gone to hide somewhere so Data didn't see him and get confused. Dal had given me a two-way radio which I put in the breast pocket of my coat. I was there alone with Data, knowing that I was being watched by Dal. So, I sent Data to get the sheep and off he went. I can't recall whether I sent him to the right or the left, it really doesn't matter. Back then I had incredible difficulty remembering right from left. I still have difficulty remembering but it doesn't happen quite as often as it did then. I asked him to lie down when he was at the top and wonder of wonders, he lay down. I heard Dal on the other end of the radio sounding almost giddy. Apparently, Data didn’t lie down for him. If Data hadn't already had my heart at "hello", this certainly sealed my fate with Data.

Dal and I continued to work my other dogs. Strangely, Dal took a shine to Spike. Kate said it was because Dal loved a project. Maybe it was one of those flash in the pan moments of brilliance that spurred Dal on, who knows? In any case, Dal worked with Spike for quite some time. Nik remained true to form, doing his typical smash ‘em up gather which Dal didn’t much appreciate and ultimately Nik ended up being none to thrilled with Dal either. There is a story there, best left for around the campfire after a day of sheeping. If you ever happen across Dal though, do ask him about Nik.

Meeting Data

We arrived at Dal and Kate’s sometime around Valentines day. Dal and Kate were going out for dinner but welcomed us into their home. They, well Kate, showed us where we were going to stay and various other important facts like where the bathroom was, the kitchen and so on, and then took me to meet Data. I remember that moment vividly. He was almost completely black with dark eyes, small, and cute as anything. I knew instantly he was going to be mine. Of course Nik and Spike both made the trip. In case you may have forgotten my Motley Crue: Spike: drooling, barking and insane. Nik: still held some promise in my eyes. What a sight I must have been to Dal and Kate. Neither of them have ever made mention to me of their thoughts. I imagine they knew that I absolutely needed Data.

Dal and Kate went out for dinner. I fed my dogs, chatted with Data in his run and, being tired from the 5 hour drive, went to bed before Dal and Kate got back.

The next morning, we made plans to work dogs and Dal would show me what Data had. I was nervous and excited. I was pretty incredulous that these people, whom I had never met, would be so welcoming. Over the years, I have learned that this is commonplace in our little sheepherding world. Regardless of education, career, financial status we are all equals in this sport. Equals in our love for the dogs, love for the sport and in our ability to be humiliated by both.

Dal and I donned our winter woolies and ventured out into their big field. Perhaps Kate was there too, holding sheep – I don’t recall really. What I do recall is how far away those sheep seemed to be. Dal sent Data to get the sheep. He went out there, all the way out without barking, biting or even going through them first, and brought the sheep. He actually did an Outrun. I was starting to pick up some of that lingo now. ComeBye - go to the left, Away to Me - go to the right. Well in my eyes, this outrun of Data's was just about the most spectacular thing. I had witnessed this before to be sure. I had watched a few dog trials and had been around some far better hands than I by this point but this dog, this little fella, was going to be mine. My mind started to reel with the possibilities, as it seems to do each time I get a new dog. I thought about the fact that now I was going to be able to run in dog trials.

The Genesis of Dog Number Three

As it turned out, Nik didn’t quite have the uhmm, aptitude for herding sheep. Oh, he could get behind them and bring them back but his idea of getting behind them was to go through them first, scatter them, put them back together and then bring them to me.

I tried, my mentors tried, all to no avail. I had such confidence in him that Louise, one of my mentors, and I even made a bet that he would be able to run an open course by the time he turned ten. I was so wrong. Nik now enjoys life as a pet. A great big, pain in the butt, goofball pet. It was easier for both of us if I retired him before we started. In retrospect, the only thing that gave me any hope with him was the fact that he would lie down and call off sheep.

Somewhere between starting and retiring Nik, Andrea, another of my mentors, mentioned a dog for sale. A two year old “started” dog, named Data.

Let me go back a bit to introduce you to Andrea and Louise. I had met Louise and Andrea at a sheepdog trial in Palmerston, ON. Louise and I became fast friends and to this day, she is still one of my best friends and mentors. Louise has a wonderful bitch named Clare. From the moment I met Clare I knew I wanted a daughter from her. Data was Clare’s brother. Anyway, when Andrea mentioned Data to me, I was adamant that I neither needed nor wanted another dog. After all, I still held hope for Nik. Andrea was adamant that I did need another dog, a real dog. So adamant was she, that Andrea recruited Louise to the cause. Between the two of them, Andrea in her way, and Louise in hers, they convinced me to at least meet Data. It was a five-hour drive to Michigan where Data lived. Barely a year ago, there was no way I would drive an hour to ‘cure’ Spike, and now I was going to drive five hours just to meet a dog, in a pickup truck that I had purchased just for the dogs. My how things had changed for me in just a year.

Nik

It wasn’t much longer after that clinic that I realized Spike was never going to be very adept at herding sheep. Ok, ok, there are those who actually knew him that would say he had no ability whatsoever. Likely, they are right but I do recall those flash in the pan moments that seemed to hold a little promise. At least for me. I continued to take Sally to sheep occasionally, but had really decided that a proper working dog, not a rescue, would be the right move. With that, I set about purchasing a new Border Collie. I called Alice and posed the question; “Do you have any pups for sale?” She had a 10-month-old male available. He was big and fluffy and goofy. I had met him on a few occasions while at her place. Her kids had named him Nike. Nike being the "Goddess of Speed" was highly incorrect for a boy, so I shortened the name to Nik.

Dog #2
I remember the day I picked him up. He sat patiently as Alice clipped his nails. A new experience for him, but he maintained his composure during the ordeal. I paid for him, signed the appropriate paperwork, loaded him into my truck and headed home. Yes, my truck. You see, my Civic hatcback had been stolen and I needed to replace it. Of course I had to get a vehicle to transport Spike so I bought a pickup truck. I digress. The entire ride home, Nik was as quiet as a mouse. Things were looking great for this new prospect. I beamed as I thought about how he would be raised just right and he would get to work sheep and we would go to trials and he and I were gonna be stars. Ok, I had no clue about raising a Border Collie puppy, but had raised several other puppies and was sure it would be easy. In fact, Nik proved to be a very easy lad to raise. He was sweet and enthusiastic – something he still hasn’t outgrown 5 years later. I taught Nik to lie down, to come when he was called, to heel, sit, and stay. Good thing too…

My First Clinic

After attending a few lessons with Alice, Spike was learning to go around the sheep and showed moments of brilliance. Those moments were few and far between in retrospect. I heard about a sheep herding trial in Milton through Spike’s foster mom and we agreed to meet there. We watched a few runs and we both had a few choice comments on the lack of obedience in these dogs, as if lie down was merely a suggestion. I'm sure everyone who comes into this sport from an obedience type of background always thinks the same thing. I will write later about the whole 'lie down' thing. Anyway, at that trial, I heard about a training clinic and decided that getting lessons from someone else would be a fun thing to do. I signed up and a few days later we were off to our lesson.

As I sat there with Spike held firmly in hand, I watched several dogs actually herding sheep. There was no barking, very little biting; no one seemed to be running trying to catch his or her dog. It all seemed so controlled and mannerly. Like that dog I had seen so many years ago. As time passed, I started to make note of the size of the field. This was the field that the trial had been held on, and was considerably larger than the field at Alice’s. I started to question my own sanity, I already knew that my dog was insane, but before I could second-guess my decision it was my turn.

Spike lived up to all that he was. Chasing sheep all over hell’s half acre. I don’t know if that field is only a half-acre, but it certainly was hell for me. The sordid details of that day have forever been locked in that part of my mind that is only reachable through hypnosis or exorcism, and those details shall remain locked away there forever. I DO recall that there were many people there who, together with their dogs, tidied up the relative carnage. I also recall meeting Carol that day. She relayed to me how she and her dog Piper, the one that was lying quietly by her side without a leash, had started exactly that way. Knowing Carol a bit better now than I did then, I strongly suspect Piper was never quite that bad and, ever the ambassador, Carol was simply trying to help me feel less discouraged.

Beginning the Addiction

Spike and I arrived at the farm, him covered in drool from panting and his carrying on during the car ride and me, thinking about Spike and I were going to bond and, of course, how quiet he would be on the ride home. THIS was going to fix everything. He was going to be a star.

I met Alice and after some conversation we decided to take Spike to the sheep. I held on to his line for dear life as he dragged me into the field. I struggled and told him to heel, sit, lie down… SOMETHING !!! What was going on? Why wasn’t he listening to me? Eventually he did lie down, or sat down. Alice then suggested I let him go “let’s see what he does”. We must have been making great progress to be able to go “off leash” so quickly. With a little trepidation, I let the leash go and, he was off. Running, chasing, barking, tail high in the air. He was having the time of his life. Alice pointed out lots of things to me, said something about going around the sheep, come… something, away to me, it was like a completely foreign language. I was willing to learn, for Spike.

Alice asked me to get Spike to lie down. I was sure that after running like that for 10 minutes, he would have been happy to. Lie down. Nothing. Lie Down! ... Still nothing. In fact, it seemed like he was going faster… LIE DOWN !!!! Nothing. No, wait… something. He was biting them! Good god he was biting them! Next, I found myself running, trying to catch this dog that had clearly lost his mind. How was I ever going to catch him? I was coming to the realization that this field was HUGE, now that I was running all over it. Spike was out of control. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I stomped on his line and he came to a screeching, tumbling halt, as did I. Both of us were exhausted. I walked with Spike’s line held firmly in my hand, to get him a drink. As I looked down at him I noticed his front legs were bright red. At first I thought he had caused some serious injury to a sheep or to all of them. Upon closer inspection I noticed that it was Sally’s feet that were bleeding. The horror! I mentioned it to Alice and she just shrugged saying something about a city dog.

That was my first introduction to sheepherding, and just like that, I was hooked, perhaps the word ‘addicted’ is more apt.

Where it Began

Often I am asked how I got involved with this sport called sheepherding. My answer is, always has been “I rescued a Border Collie”

His name was Spike, who was ultimately dubbed ‘Sally Ann’. Spike was placed into Border Collie Rescue because he was a biter and a car chaser. Two things neither I nor anyone else could seem to break him of. My first instinct with him was that he needed to do what the breed was intended to do, herd sheep.

He was three years old when we met. He had been in a foster home for 18 months where he had be taught some manners: sit, stay, and come. He hated riding in the car; it was pure torture for him. Another thing he could never seem to get beyond. He had plenty of idiosyncrasies – all Border Collies do – but poor Spike hadn’t been given the best start to his life. People said he had been abused. He hadn’t been beaten, NO SIR!!! He had been given way too much freedom as a youngster, had never been taught right from wrong. Regardless, I thought I could fix him. Just get him working. He loved to herd the basketball, so herding sheep should be a snap! I made some calls trying to find someone to help me get started. The first person I called expected me to commit to three times per week AND drive over an hour each way. Well, that was just nuts! I was not going to drive that much. No way. I called some of my old obedience contacts and finally, got connected with a lady who had sheep and bred Border Collies. She was only 40 minutes away, nor did she expect me to go three times a week. Now we were getting somewhere. I made an appointment with her, loaded Spike into my Honda Civic Hatchback and, we were off to our first sheepherding lesson.