What I did for Christmas

Hi all, I know it's been a loooong time since I've posted. Suffice to say, a few readers were reading and making some very derogatory remarks. I got in a bit of a snit about it and stopped writing. I think I'm over it now. Those of you who read just to say nasty things... go away. You know who you are!

So, Merry Christmas everyone else!

I ended up being able to spend the day with a good friend working dogs together. It rained. It rained some more.

I have babbled on and on about my dear Stella. Somehow, someway, her fetch has gotten a bit screwy. I'm working on it and we are making progress. Some of the things that Scott told me earlier are making more and more sense to me now. If it isn't one thing, it's another. Throughout the summer I had spent a lot of time working on her stop. I am proud to say that her stop has dramatically improved. It seemed like she had no idea what to do after her outrun. She was stopping pretty good at the top but then seemed a bit confused as to how to just walk on and lift the sheep. We're working on that and are being relatively successful.

Bond, James Bond. I spent the summer working on challenging his mind. Driving, fetching, building a vocabulary. He seemed to go a bit insane. His "doll eyes" got wilder and wilder looking. His working style followed suit. Back to the drawing board with him. Back to some puppy stuff. Little outruns and wearing. I've taken to wearing along a fenceline with him so I only have to worry about watching one side instead of two.


After working on this for a while, we turned into the field and I crossed all my available digits.

I walked forwards - notice I'm not turning my back on him. I have a tendency to do just that and it NEVER turns out well.

I walked backwards. I still need practice with this but I'm getting better. I stopped him, I started him, I flanked him. We did some little outruns and a couple that were much longer than I thought he was capable of doing. When I sent him on those, I had stopped paying attention to the sheep and they had wandered off. "Uh oh" I said, and started to run. I was fully expecting Bond to bust in and be naughty. He wasn't.

I still have to work on our relationship. He seems to think he can get away with things. This is a common theme with me and my dogs. I'm not quite sure what I do to create the lack of respect on the field but I manage to do it. With Bond, I'm not sure how to earn that respect. I'm sure I will figure it out. A big part of me believes that it will come with mileage together.

Stella's Debutante Ball

Also known as The Bluegrass Stock Dog Trial.

We had done all the preparation we could. We packed up and left at around 4:30am to make the 9 hour trek to Lexington, Kentucky. There was frost on the ground when I left home and when I arrived in Kentucky, it was close to 27 degrees C or 80 degrees F. I stopped to pick up supplies, food and such, then proceeded to the trial site. It was an absolutely gorgeous park. I found Dal n Kate's camper and decided I would park near them and take advantage of the shade their camper would provide. I set up my little campsite after walking my dogs then went looking for Andrea. I finally had my bet payment for her.

I had some supper, fed my dogs, visited with Dal and Kate for a bit, then went to bed. Stella and I were running the next day and I wanted to be well rested.

I had spoken to several people about this trial. Everyone said the same thing. The Novice field is a tough one. Although the field didn't look terribly ominous, the sheep proved to be quite wily. They learned rather quickly where the exhaust was. Stella and I weren't going to run until later in the day so I knew the sheep would be keen to get into the exhaust pen.

Strangely, I wasn't nervous. I watched many runs and several times, the sheep simply jumped into the exhaust. My plan was to get Stella to lie down and listen to me as soon as possible. My biggest concern was the fetch. If we got through the fetch and around the post, I felt that she and I could get through the drive.

I had started noticing a few oddities with Stella in the last couple of work sessions. She had started crossing over occasionally. Ok, twice. I thought that it was pressure related and had decided that on our first go, I would look at the set sheep and would send Stella the direction that the sheep weren't facing. I looked up at our set sheep and the direction I decided to send her was to the left. As we walked to the post, Stella kept flipping to my right side and I kept bringing her back to my left. I sent her on her outrun and she disappeared for a bit as she went down into a knoll. When she reappeared, she was about to cross over. I tried to stop her but couldn't. I decided to take the cross over - which would cost me 19 of the 20 points allocated to the outrun - and let Stella get her sheep. I gave her an 'away to me' to let her know that things were ok and that I was in this with her. She did a pretty good outrun after the cross, the sheep lifted fairly quickly and I finally got her stopped right around the fetch panels. She listened to me the rest of the way down the fetch and we got turned around the post. As we started our drive away, the sheep were drawn to the exhaust. I knew that this was going to happen and knew that if I stayed calm, Stella wouldn't let those sheep get away. I flanked her one way, then the other. The sheep fought to get to the exhaust and Stella and I were doing a pretty good job at keeping things under control, she was getting worried and I could see it. Another couple of flanks and we would be on our way. Except for the pen. Where Stella needed to be was where the pen was. I hadn't practiced this part. She was behind the pen, and the sheep decided that was their chance to get to the exhaust. As they made their way to the exhaust, Stella decided she had had enough and took off after the one that was making a break. I left the post to make sure Stella didn't do anything bad. I called her to me, gave her a pat and asked the person who exhausted my sheep if they would mind doing my exhaust for me. I really didn't want Stella to bring all the exhausted sheep out and back onto the field.

Scott had watched our run. He said to me that Stella listened pretty good and that I should just keep doing what I was doing. His advice for my next go was 'do what you did, but stay away from the pen'

The next day
My plan for today was to improve on yesterday somehow. I decided that I would let Stella choose the side she wanted to go, and if she wasn't adamant about a side, I would send her the direction she wanted to go, and ultimately ended up going, yesterday. I was also going to try to stay away from the pen as per Scott's advice.

Stella and I walked to the post and she seemed willing to go either direction. I sent her to the right. She did a lovely outrun. I was watching her rather than keeping an eye on her and the sheep. Next thing I noticed was that the sheep were headed to the left of the field. I looked at Stella and she seemed to have been deep enough not to have caused that. Think Janet, think. This is a bad situation for Stella, the sheep are running. I gave her a steady whistle, and hollered her away to me. [she and I hadn't transitioned fully to her whistles yet]. She managed to control herself and I let her cover her sheep. My heart was racing. Once again she got stopped just around the fetch gates. We were under control. I looked at the pen briefly as we finished our fetch and this time, the pen door had blown open. Good grief. Ok, stay away from the pen. Turn the post, make her mind, don't get anxious, no yelling. BREATHE.

Staying away from the pen seemed to fly out the window when Stella ended up INSIDE the pen. I kind of chuckled at how miserably I had failed at staying away from the pen. Once again, we ended up with Stella in a precarious spot where she had to flank repeatedly to get away from the pen and cover the sheep. Once again, it proved to be a bit much for her and we retired.

After that run, Scott said he was pleased with how she minded her manners. He knew, as well as I did, that the setout problem could have proven disatrous for Stella. He also reassured me that Stella didn't cause the setout problem.

Although I wished she and I had completed the course, I was absolutely thrilled that she and I were able to walk to the post and that she was willing to listen to me after she and I had really only been working together for a few weeks.

Only six months prior, Stella was a whirling dervish. Only 4 weeks prior, I had thought I had turned her into something worse than the whirling dervish. Only 3 weeks prior, she and I had our 'argument', and only 2 short weeks prior to this trial she had started listening to me. I was really proud of all the obstacles she and I had already overcome and was excited to work more with her.

For the first time in a very long time, I left a trial feeling excited and happy about the quality of work from me and my dog.

We spent the remainder of the week watching the open class. That was tough going, and not for the faint of heart. One day Stella and I will be running on that field.

New Place to Work

I made a couple of calls, and found a place relatively close to home that I could work my dogs. The Kentucky Bluegrass Trial was coming up and I had entered Stella. I contemplated scratching her. On the withdrawal deadline, I emailed the trial manager and asked if it would be easier on them if I put Stella in Novice Novice rather than Pro Novice. Alas, Stella had made the cut into the Pro-Novice class. I toyed with the idea of secretly swapping out Stella and running Data in her stead. Data would answer to the name Stella about as readily as he answers to his own name on the trial field.

I had been watching the DVDs made at Scott's and one of the things that Scott said was that I needed to be determined. That stuck with me, and I decided to dig in my heels and be determined. She was going to run at the Bluegrass and we weren't going to embarrass ourselves.

She and I worked and worked every day for the next week or so. At first things weren't so great. New sheep, new field, new opportunity to give me a try. I was stubborn and determined. She didn't get away with anything. I ran into a snag with her while starting the drive away. When I asked for an inside flank, she would dive in. Once again, I called Scott. He said "You don't want to give her a steady diet of that." Uhmmm nooo, that's why I'm calling. He then suggested that I simply crossdrive with her to remind her how to do it properly. Next work, I did just that. It seemed to really help.

Slowly but surely, the pieces started coming together. I took Data out one morning, I thought he might find it fun to work some sheep. I couldn't believe the difference between working with Data and working with Stella. I no longer wanted to pretend Data was Stella at the Bluegrass, Stella was working far better for me than Data ever had. Actually doing the work with Stella was paying off in spades.

I knew that Stella and I weren't going to be competitive at the Bluegrass. I had only had her back for 6 weeks, and it had only been the last week or two that she had started listening to me, but I felt confident that she and I could go to the post and not be completely humiliated.

Don't Put Her on Sheep That Will Run

"Stella likes to be in charge of her sheep so, for right now, don't put her on sheep that will run." This was Scott's advice to me, and what did I do when I got back from Virginia? I put her on sheep that will run. Apparently, Scott really meant it when he said not to put her on running sheep. It was a disaster! Stella seemed worse than she was before I sent her to Scott's. I was in tears. Big snotty tears. I called Scott and, after he admonished me for doing exactly what he had advised against, gave me some guidance. "Get her on heavier sheep. When she starts circling and not taking her eyes off the sheep, keep the sheep away from her. Do it against a fence. Don't yell at her. If you have to, take a step toward her. It can take a few minutes, just be stubborn about it." I sniffed and thanked him.

Next work session at Cynthia's, we got some heavier sheep. Almost immediately, she started circling and trying to beat me. I looked for a fence and I couldn't find one nearby. Ok, so I took the sheep away and stayed between her and the sheep. 'Round and round we went. I said nothing. At one point I looked at Cynthia and said "I really really want to say something to her!" but I didn't. I was persistent. I was stubborn. I stayed with the sheep. She got wider and wider but didn't take her eyes off the sheep. After what felt like about 10 minutes, I saw it. She looked away from the sheep. She had conceded the point, I had won. I asked her to stop, she did. I gave her a flank, she took it. I asked her to stop and said "that'll do". I was too dizzy to keep working but rewarded her for bending to me. That's all it took. She started listening to me more and more. I still wasn't able to grumble at her though. If I did, she went straight to Uranus. I figured, it was easier to fight one battle at a time with her, and this was a battle well worth fighting first, regardless of how dizzy I got. The grumbling at her could come later.

I worked her all weekend that weekend and made the decision to go to a place closer to home to work so I could work her more often.

Getting to Know Each Other

I left for Virginia at around 4am and make the 12 hour trek down south. The last hour or so of the drive is pretty arduous. If I leave early then I can drive the hard part during daylight making it a bit easier.

The morning after my arrival I helped Craig clean up his yard in preparation for his trial. Then we went to work the dogs. I was really excited to show Stella off since Craig had seen her a year ago, suffice to say he was not impressed with her. His sheep are honest and really move away from a dog. Stella was more like the old Stella. We worked on fetching, walking backwards, lie down, flank. Tiny flank, lie down, tiny flank, lie down. It was tough going but after a while she started to listen. This was the first time I had worked her except for those few minutes at Scott's. I was a bit disappointed that we weren't doing these huge outruns and all the wonderful things I had seen Scott doing with her but, I understood that I needed to keep things close at hand with her and above all REMAIN CALM. If I get all wound up, the whirling dervish in Stella can rear it's ugly head. Craig told me to run Stella in Novice Novice at his trial that weekend and make my goal to win. He said I had to get used to winning. Sigh. Ok, Novice Novice it is. I put her up and noticed she was lame. I checked her feet and she had torn all four of her pads. I wrapped her feet and worked her some more later that afternoon. I put her up for the night and hoped her tender tootsies would be fine in the morning.

By the next morning, I had realized that Novice Novice was an extraordinary idea and I was keen to run her. Her feet were still quite raw, but I figured that would just slow her down some. I re-wrapped them for her, poorly, and when my turn came I went to the post and sent her on her outrun. The sheep had been a bit flighty for the earlier runs and I knew I had to stop her in order to keep things calm. I did get her stopped, eventually, and she walked them to the post. Then it came time to turn the post. Amanda once said to me that one should always be thinking about the next phase of work. I had not thought about the next phase of work until the turn at the post was right there. I totally forgot how to do this in Novice Novice and I created an anxious moment for Stella. If I'm not mistaken, she lost her cool and pushed too hard making the sheep run. Running sheep are not great for her and off she went. I left the post and called her off. Thank you. I didn't run her in the trial the next 3 runs. Mostly because I was going to be there for a while and I wanted her feet to heal so I could work her. The trial wasn't that important to me.

The next several days were spent socializing, working dogs and of course I would spend a few minutes each day with Stella in the field and Bond in the round pen. Stella and I were making some progress and I was feeling really good about things with her. Bond was becoming king of the round pen and I was feeling pretty good about them.

Oh, Data announced at that trial that he was no longer interested in trialling. I sent him on his outrun, he stopped for a poop at around 2 on the clock. After he lifted the sheep and started on his fetch he found something wonderful to a dog. He picked it up and ran sideways across the field shaking his prey. Ok Data, I get it. I ran him a few more times and each time he sniffed the area where he found his prey but, we actually got around the course albeit pretty untidily. On one run, I gave a wrong flank at the drive away panels and Data took it, causing us to lose all but 4 of our drive points. We had a perfect pen and the judge told me that we had the nicest turn around the post he had seen all day. Ok, I'll take those small successes.

After an evening of wine and 'shine, some laughs and good friendship, we all headed to bed so we could make the drive home the next day. Once home, I was finally going to be able to show her off to my friends. Or was I?

The Journey Home

I'm not sure why I didn't get lost on my way back. I really wasn't paying attention to driving. My mind was reeling with everything. I was playing back everything that Scott had said. I was thinking about how great things were going to be now, how Stella and I were going to be stars! Every so often, I would reach behind me into the crate tub - I had collapsed her crate and it was like a tub for her - to touch her and make sure she was really there. And then it happened. I started crying. I was elated to have her back and able to work. I felt a bit foolish but was relieved that the flood of tears came after I left. I called Louise and Cynthia and babbled endlessly about her.

I hadn't meticulously planned out my return trip with her. As I arrived at the car rental drop off I had to figure out how to get her out of the car, assemble the crate, into the crate, onto a luggage cart and into the terminal. I bumbled my way through, got her to the airport and walked away as they carted her off to her seat on the plane. I went on through to my gate and watched for some sign of her being loaded on to the plane. I was worried that she wouldn't make it on. The flight home was relatively uneventful. We landed in Toronto and all I had to do was go get her and take her home. They brought her out and off she and I went to start our new lives together. Her on her luggage rack, me pushing it. We got to the bus stop where the shuttle bus to the parking lot would meet us. Then I saw the bus. It was a regular city bus. How was I going to get her on and off the bus? Fortunately, a nice young lad returning from a ski trip with his buddies offered to help me. What a gentleman.

Arriving at the parking lot, I realized there was no way for me to get her crate to my van. No luggage trolleys, only a miserable wheelchair. Well, it's got wheels so I decided to use it. I grabbed my leash, pulled Stella out of the crate and put the crate on the wheelchair. Poor Stella was a bit shell shocked after having been in the middle of nowhere for several months, here she is in the parking lot of the Toronto airport, and I dropped the crate on her. Twice. Welcome home Babydoll. We eventually got back to the van and she happily jumped into the spare crate I had in there. I shoved her crate in, my bag, and the wheelchair. I dropped off the wheelchair and we were on the last leg of our journey. We arrived home, I opened the door for her, put her in the back yard to potty while I parked my van. I got her from the yard and she nosed around the house noticing that I had rearranged everything. She looked at me and said "I'm not sure I like what you've done with the place, I'll let you know tomorrow." With that she went upstairs and flopped onto my bed. Yes Scott, I let her sleep there that night. And a couple more after that.

I spent the next three days touching her. I couldn't keep my hands off her. I hadn't realized how much I missed her until she was back home. Then we were headed to Craig's in Virginia.

The Queen Comes Home

I know I'm a bit tardy updating this blog. I have lots to share and will do so in a few posts. I'll try to do them in a relatively short time frame.

The first weekend of April, 2009 was when I was going to get Stella. I had decided to fly out to Scott and Jenny's, spend some time with Scott and, if he had time, maybe take a lesson with him. After having gone to the lengths of sending her there, why not go and pick her up? That was a good decision for me.

Once again, I was up at 3am to drive to the airport to get on a plane to fly to Calgary then drive three hours to get to my destination. I slept some on the plane but it's nearly impossible for me to get comfortable. Ok, I've seen the ads on TV with these wonderful reclining seats, I wasn't in one of those seats. I digress. I arrived in Calgary and after sorting out a bit of mess with my rental car, I was on my way. I took my GPS along to help me navigate. Jenny sent me an email with some directions as there was no address or coordinates that I could punch into my GPS to get me to their doorstep. I learned a new word that day, "Couley" - I think that's how it's spelled. The easiest way to define it: Scott says "we call the Grand Canyon, the Grand Couley". Anyway, after going through a couley or two and driving along some pretty desolate roads, I arrived at their place. Scott whisked me into the living room to watch Stella's DVD. I don't really recall what went through my mind while I was watching it. It was kind of like watching a dog that looked like mine but couldn't possibly be mine. Scott explained a few things and I listened as best I could. I do remember thinking, "Is that really her?" She was outrunning, and stopping and flanking and driving OH MY!

After watching the DVD, Scott took me out so I could see her work. I had been wondering how she would greet me. She always had a unique way of greeting me and others she knew well. She came out of her kennel and as she was running to Scott she saw me. She bent in half [her way of greeting me] and then carried on. I said "Hi Stella, thanks". We went out to the field where Scott trains and he started showing her to me. I am not sure what my expectations actually were, but I recall thinking "That's just Stella!". I suppose I thought she would somehow look different. Ridiculous, but true. There was one huge difference though. She was working sheep. I had always had this fantasy of one day letting Scott or Alasdair work one of my dogs, just to see what they could do compared to what I was able to accomplish. That day, my fantasy was fulfilled. It was breathtaking. She was doing what Scott asked. He explained some of her quirks and strong points. I nodded and smiled. Inside I was fighting back tears of joy.

That evening, we went out for dinner. Once we were back, Scott and Jenny had to do their chores. I offered to help but was told I could just relax. I did. I stood on the deck and looked at the beautiful landscape. I saw Scott heading down to the barn with a dog. I did a double take, low and behold, he was doing chores with Stella! Apparently, that was the first time he had taken her out to help but, to me, it looked like she had been doing chores with him all along. Again, I beamed. Stella came and sat with me on the deck before she had her supper and went to bed. Afterward, we chatted and played with the puppies a bit before I went to bed.

The next morning Scott announced that he wasn't pleased with Stella's DVD and he wanted to shoot another one. Jenny had some stuff to do so I was elected videographer. I didn't do such a good job with her outruns. Stella was giving Scott a lot of grief. At the time I didn't quite see what, exactly, he meant though. It still looked pretty good to me.

I had a chance later on to take Stella out myself for a few minutes. I had no idea what I intended to do with her so I just did a few small outruns, some fetches and a bit of driving. She was listening to me. In fact, she was listening to me better than she had listened to Scott earlier that same day.

I loaded Stella into my rental car and headed back to the Calgary airport with her. As we left Scott and Jenny's, Stella had her head resting on the back dash of the car and whined as she watched Scott disappear.

Losing a Faithful Friend

Boss
May 1994 - August 2008

Although my time with Boss was relatively short, I loved him dearly. He was my friend, my companion and as I've said before he was always handy. As he got older he started to deteriorate. A working Border Collie that can no longer work, to me, is in misery. Boss enjoyed his retirement living in the house, warm and comfortable in his crate. Occasionally he got to sleep on my bed although that concept seemed to confuse him. He was not accustomed to sleeping on a people bed. He spent his days lounging in the sun, chewing old bones while lying on a dog bed in the living room. Always loving to rest his head on my knee with his muzzle wrapped in my hand.

I knew it was time to give 'Ole Boss the gift of being put out of his misery. I took him to see my vet Sharon who has a spot in her heart for him. I bawled with him in her office. There have been times when I have been to Sharon's and her clients have proceeded to tell me a story that they had heard from Sharon about a Border Collie patient of hers. I always listen to them tell me the same story knowing the story by heart. I smile at the end of the story and say "I know, that was my dog Boss". Anyone who has met Boss, and there are many, remember him. He was an unforgettable dog.

As Boss was being put to sleep, I held his muzzle in my hand. The vet seemed to want me to remove my hand but I was adamant that I was going to hold his muzzle in death just as I had held it countless times through our life together. In retrospect, I suppose she thought he was a biter and needed to have his mouth held shut rather than the gesture being one of comfort for him. As he passed, I shed a few tears and told him we would meet again one day. Boss was ready to be rid of his tired old body. He was anxious to be able to run and work sheep without the aches and pains he had in the physical realm and seemed to know that the time was very close for him to be able to do just that.

I buried Boss on the hill behind Louise’s house. I wanted to bury Boss in a place where he would be able to see sheep always. Louise walked with me up the hill and we stopped to survey the area. At that moment, a very spiritual thing happened. The sheep came in from the field and stopped. It was as though Boss’ spirit had brought the sheep in from the field one last time. From where Louise and I were standing on the side of the hill, we saw that Boss would be able to see the sheep and that spot became his final resting place. That evening, as I looked out the kitchen window, I realized that I could see, with absolute clarity, the spot where he was laid to rest. I will always say that Boss chose that spot for himself.

Rest in Peace Old Man, I miss you more than you may know.

He's not "Farty Pants" Anymore

August 2008. Bond had been mine for almost 3 weeks making him 11 weeks old. I had already dubbed him ‘Farty Pants’. He was as cute as a button and was really rolling with his new life living in a van. For all he knew he DID live in a van.

We were at the Grass Creek Sheepdog trial and there is always a puppy demonstration as part of the attractions at this wonderful trial. Most of the puppies in this demonstration are a little bit older than Bond was then. Most of the puppies had at least seen sheep before. I was curious about the degree of instinct Bond might have at that age, so I decided to give him a go on sheep in this demonstration. I had no idea what to expect from him. Would he just wander around and sniff? Would he bite them? Would he bark? Would he go around them? I took him into the pen and with some encouragement from me, he noticed the sheep and was off. No barking, no tail flying in the air, just a little puppy keen to catch the sheep. The second day at the demo was even more fun. Bond actually went around the sheep once. Only a minute or so and I knew he was keen to work sheep. Bond was the star of the show. I suppose that cute little black face and his tiny legs propelling him toward the sheep as fast as they could go, made him look that much cuter.

I put him away for the remainder of the summer . Let him grow up some more. Mature and be ready to actually learn. Late fall rolls around. Bond was about 6 months old and I thought I’d give him a try to see what he was like. He was barking and biting and chasing. I caught him and put him up for another month. Try again, same result although it looked a little more like a football game - there was tackling involved. My instinct told me he was ready to take a bit of pressure from me in order to stop this. I decided I would go to Virginia, back to Bond’s birthplace, and get the advice of Craig.

We put Bond in the round pen, saw the silliness and Craig instructed me, then showed me how to put an end to that. A little bit of pressure, some guidance on how to do it right and Bond was going around the sheep as nice as the nicest 8 month old pups. I had to do a double take a couple of times to make sure that was actually my little farty pants looking like a real sheepdog.

I have worked him a couple more times on sheep, each time we get better at going around them, changing directions and stopping. With Bond, I decided to dust of Vergil Holland's book "Herding Dogs. Progressive Training" and follow the steps there, at least as well as I am able to comprehend what Vergil is trying to communicate.

Quoting Vergil's book:
"... Start these next lessons with the dog circling the stock. You will try to change the direction of the circle after you dog has gone around two or three times in one direction. At this point, it is very important to get the dog to start working on you, holding the sheep to the handler, rather than all of your directions being focused on keeping the dog away from them. In order to do this, keep the sheep between you and the dog. You should gradually begin to stop the dog more frequently, remembering to ask her to drop only when on balance. You will ask your dog to circle most often in her non-preferred or uncomfortable direction. "

So Bond and I are circling and circling and stopping. Once I feel that Bond is comfortable going around both directions I will start working on getting him to walk up a couple of steps.

Bond looks like a proper dog now. I can't call him Farty Pants anymore.

Stella goes to Camp - Boot Camp that is.

I had run Stella in two trials by the time she was 2. First at Dal and Kate’s, and again at a winter fun trial here in Ontario.

Training her was challenging for me. I was struggling with trying to just get her to go around sheep nicely. I left her with Louise for a few weeks who managed to do a bit of ground work with her.

I spent some time in Virginia with Craig who helped me get into Stella’s head and she and I made some progress. She could walk with me in the vicinity of sheep without taking it upon herself to go and work them. She could wait a moment so I could walk up to the sheep and help her. She learned to be more polite going around the sheep. Still, we struggled and created some pretty bad habits.

The year she turned 2, I took her for a lesson with Scott. I remember it vividly because Stella was his last lesson after a couple of days packed full of lessons. I was proud to be able to walk out to the field with her off leash and have her mind her manners. Scott gave me some pointers and tips with her and we made a bit of progress. The next day, the trial at Dal and Kate’s started. I spent some time talking with Kate who was just getting one of her dogs back from training - aka Boot Camp - with Scott. I started to think that maybe getting Scott to train Stella was something I should consider. I discussed the idea with Jenny who gave me a couple of the particulars and then I asked Scott if he thought it would be a waste of his time if I sent her to him. He said no, he thought she would be just fine. He also said that Stella should be there for about 4 months.

Four months I would have to be without my babydoll. I thought about it and discussed it with a lot of people and by the end of the three day trial, I had pretty well decided that Stella was going to go to Scott the following winter for her own Boot Camp.

I spent the summer trying to prevent any backward momentum with her training and if I made some progress with her, even better. My rhetoric that summer was ‘Do No Harm’. I traveled to various dog trials, not competing with Stella. I fared as I normally do with Data and by the end of the season I was left feeling fairly demoralized and frustrated once again.

I studied the airline rules for flying a dog. I talked to my vet. I planned almost everything. I was to meet Scott at Toronto Airport at around 5:30 am. This meant I had to leave the house at 4am and I had to get up no later than 3am. Everything went like clockwork. I was up and out of the house by 4. I had coffee, Data, Bond and Stella. I planned to go to John and Cynthia’s after leaving the airport. Everyone was on Stella alert. John was planning to make breakfast when I got to their place, Louise was ready with the tissues to help mop up my tears and a stick to club me when my whining got tiresome.

I got to the right terminal and parked my van. Now what? How do I get her, in her crate, inside? Simple, I just needed one of those luggage carts. I close my van up and head to look for a cart. Down the elevator, into the terminal and find the carts. Like the shopping carts at the grocery store they were only released from their locking mechanism by the insertion of a coin. A two dollar coin. I rifle through my pockets and find some pocket lint and other miscellaneous garbage items. Back up the elevator and to my van, dig for a toonie, back down the elevator to the infernal luggage cart rack, insert the coin and release the cart. This has set me back about 15 minutes in my carefully orchestrated journey. Panic starts to set in as I struggle with the luggage cart, finally figuring out how to work it. At five in the morning I don't deal well with confusion.

Back up the elevator and back to my van. Unload Stella out of the crate, haul the crate out of the van, put the crate on the luggage cart. The crate is too big for the cart. I stuff Stella in the crate and dig around in my van for a bungee cord. I bungee the crate to the luggage rack, struggle again to get the cart to move, and finally I was off with Stella.

The crate was a bit cockeyed on the cart and wobbled around as we bumped and clattered our way into the terminal. I couldn’t see any other animals around and started to question whether or not I was in the right place. I sat down and waited for Scott. I was more than a little frustrated with myself for not having thought this bit through.

It wasn’t long until I saw Scott walking through the airport. Angels sang and I swear he was bathed in a heavenly light. Finally, someone who had actually done this before, was here. I could relax a bit. Scott talked me through the procedure and bent down to say hi to Stella. She grumbled at him - more like growled and barked. This made Scott a bit nervous as to whether or not they would let her on the plane. As he talked me through the procedure, I realized that I had no leash for her. Of course Scott had one in his bag. The guy who isn’t traveling with a dog is the one with the leash, not the twit who is actually putting her dog on the airplane. We got to the desk, after I nearly destroyed the lovely little people channel they had. The aluminum posts with the ribbon through, intended to create an efficient line. Scott checks his luggage and we are directed to the baggage scanning area. I took Stella out of her crate so the person in the xray room could put the crate into the xray machine where the crate promptly got stuck in the machine. A solid shove and it was through. Back into the crate went my babydoll and we waited for the baggage handler to come and take her to the airplane. I put notes on her crate not to talk to her or play with her. I didn’t want them to deny her going onto the plane because she was grumpy. Once the baggage handler carted her away I had nothing to do but leave. I checked the time and it was 6:30am. I hadn’t intended to leave the airport until after 7. Fortunately, John and Cynthia are early risers. Once I was back on the highway I called them to tell them I was on my way there. I had only been up for 3 hours but it felt like I had done a full day's worth of stuff.

Just like that, Stella was gone from my life for the next four months. She would be working while I stayed in Ontario and shivered and complained about the volumes of snow and ice. I planned to bond with Bond.

In Cynthia's words: "It'll be fine."

A post out of sequence

As many of you know, although I haven't written about it yet, Stella is in Alberta doing doggie boot camp with Scott Glen. I promise I will write about the decision and the trials and tribulations of getting her there, at a later date.

Stella had been coming along well with her training. On Saturday evening, I received an email from Jenny saying that Stella had gotten hurt on Friday and, they were taking her to the vet to make sure she was ok. I bypassed rational thought and went straight to panic mode.

About a million phone calls, several tears, and some tense moments later, Stella is on the mend. Today is her 3rd birthday, Happy Birthday Babydoll. As John said, now I have a real stockdog.

I can't say emphatically enough how wonderful both Scott and Jenny were. There was almost constant communication from Jenny, giving me updates and the like.

It was a selfishly difficult decision to send her away. Scott is a brilliant trainer, and so is Alasdair. How do you choose? For me, the decision came down to care. Knowing Jenny is a trained Veterinary Technician, and knowing that Stella would be crated in their basement, put my mind at ease. As a person who feeds a raw diet, Jenny was more than willing to accommodate my diet request, and she even does 'the voodoo dance' for Stella. Scott maybe wouldn't do the voodoo dance, but he too took a hand in getting Stella to eat again. Only the best cheese and shortbread cookies for her. Thanks Scott.

My advice to anyone considering sending a dog away for training. Training expertise aside, consider that accidents can happen. If your dog is far away, have a plan for being able to get it back since flying may not be an option. Above all, choose a trainer who will take extraordinary care of your dog and will also consider how you feel about that dog. To me, Scott and Jenny are top notch.

Scott has now earned a place alongside Dal in my dog experience book.

The Humiliation

Over and over again I go to the post. Over and over again I leave the post in frustration. Countless times I have decided to quit this sport, only to render myself a fool to have thought such a thing as I head off to the next trial. For five long years, I have humiliated myself at dog trials. Intermittently that humiliation is smattered with jubilation when my dog actually completes the course leaving me with a score. More often than not, the score is not a worthy score in the grand scheme of things but, to me, any score is worthy of celebration.

Recently I was at a trial where the sheep were difficult, the field was difficult, it was a difficult trial. Day one I ran Data and left the field. Day two of the trial, I was determined not to leave the field. Data did exemplary outwork, despite the fact that the setout person let the sheep go before he got to them. I tried to concentrate and remember all the things that I had learned. Keep talking to him. I kept whistling to him to let him know he was doing ok. I knew I was going to need a perfect stop once he met the sheep so I whistled him down before I needed it, knowing he wouldn’t take the whistle. My intent was to kind of give him a heads up. When I needed him to stop, I spit out my whistle and screamed like a banshee. LIE DOWN!!! WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING? LIE DOWN ! Plop, down he went. Perfect. Sheep stopped, dog stopped, I had some semblance of control. I later learned that this type of action is managing mistakes rather than actually handling a dog. Obviously, this is not what is intended. It is intended to tell your dog to lie down and have it actually do as you ask. That said, I know Data doesn't do as I ask and I DO have to manage mistakes with him in order to compensate. Yes, that is an excuse.

In any case, Data was really trying hard to be a good dog and we both knew it. Next came the turn at the post. It was going to be unusually difficult but this is the one place on the course that I feel confident. Things weren’t pretty going around the post and in my fervor to do things on the course ‘correctly’, I didn’t let Data do what was sensible given the circumstances. I gave him a wrong flank and we were done. Humiliated once again. Worse, I let my dog down after he had tried so hard for me.

I suppose that after five years of apparent floundering in this sport, I really should have quit but I keep going back for yet another taste of humble pie. Year after arduous year, I go back. I go back because regardless of my success, or lack thereof, I love this sport. I love everything about it. Including those humbling moments.

The Elegance

Adjective: Pleasingly graceful and stylish in appearance or manner.

I suppose there are many things that are elegant in the world. A beautiful woman in a black dress; a well-choreographed dance; or a piece of music. Watching a sheepdog and it’s handler execute a near perfect run is one of those things that, for me, defines elegance. The moments when I really am in sync with my dog, when everything goes as planned, those are the moments that make me come back for more. They are few and far between for me. Often I am left feeling humbled and demoralized, but that one moment when everything seems to go quiet, when I am unaware of anything but my dog and the sheep and the field. Those are the moments that push me. The moments that cause me to endure the endless hours of training, the humiliation at dog trial after dog trial.

The love and connection to my dogs is one I have never experienced before.

To watch some of the best hands in North America run their dogs in competition is a sight to behold. To watch the dog respond to the whistles, to see the sheep trot around the course, holding my breath when dog and handler execute a perfect turn back, the ballet of a perfect shed. Pure elegance. Elegance in the execution, elegance in the partnership between the dog and handler, elegance in the smooth flow of the sheep. Breathtakingly beautiful.

One of the most memorable of those moments was at the 2007 National Finals in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. Daybreak, the final day of competition. The double lift. The sun was cresting over the horizon, an almost surreal mist was rising off of the field. Handlers and dedicated spectators gathered at the trial field to watch the first run of the day. Alasdair Macrae and Star. There was none of the usual chatter, it was dead silent as Alasdair walked with Star to the handlers’ post. He sent Star out on her first outrun. The silence was broken only by Alasdair’s stop whistle, followed by a slow quiet walk up whistle. The sheep lifted their heads, turned toward the post and started to walk. A more perfect lift I had never seen, and may never see again. The remainder of the run was almost equally perfect and ended up being the winning run. Alasdair and Star made it very difficult for anyone to beat them that day although Tommy Wilson came close.

Aside from the beauty of the actual sport there are so many other things that have inspired me, made me take pause and marvel at the beauty of it all. Traveling across Ontario primarily, and into the United States occasionally, I am given the opportunity to see some of the most beautiful countryside. Mountains in Virginia, the changing of the leaves in the fall, snow stuck to the trees silent and still. Stars in the sky, without a city light to tarnish their exquisiteness, continue to make me stop and marvel. I have witnessed, many times over now, the birth of a lamb. Something that never ceases to instill in me a level of admiration for nature that I don’t think I would have were it not for these dogs.

One of my favorite things has always been walking with my dogs. Getting up when the sun is just rising at a dog trial, letting my dogs out and when there is a field to walk in I always enjoy that time with them. Tirelessly running with reckless abandon, stopping when something catches their eye, or their nose. They always seem to be filled with sheer glee no matter what. They inspire me to embrace the joy in my life.

Lie Down doesn't mean Lie Down - or does it?

In Schutzhund and obedience, when we told our dogs to lie down, they hit the dirt.

The first sheepdog trial I watched I saw handlers telling their dogs to lie down. Often the dogs complied but sometimes they didn’t. I was aghast. How can the dogs not lie down? That would never be me; my dogs were going to lie down. Fast-forward five years. A recent lesson with Data was a lie down lesson. After all of my initial pontification about how my dogs would always lie down, Data was barely stopping.

Back to the beginning. As I embarked on my sheepherding journey, one of the first questions I asked was about the dogs not lying down when they were told. The answer was, lie down doesn’t necessarily mean lie down. Alright then, if lie down doesn’t mean lie down, what does it mean? It means stop. Ok, so lie down means stop. Got it. Fast-forward again to my most recent lesson. I told Data to lie down and he stopped. Can you imagine my pride? My teacher, asked me why this was acceptable to me. After much humming and hawing searching my repertoire of excuses, I had no reasonable excuse. At least not one that I felt he would find even remotely believable. My answer was more like ‘uhhhhh’. He then said ‘A stop on the feet invites a cheat’.

Over the years, I have worked with several people all of whom have said that the dog needs to stop. Quotes like “Without a stop you don’t have a dog” or “Janet, he’s not stopping, make him lie down!” or “he’s not happy stopping, you have to make him happy about stopping”. One after another they all told me to stop the dog. Notice how stop and lie down are used interchangeably? To me, this reinforced the lesson of lie down means stop. A few of these trainers went so far as to actually show me HOW to get him to lie down and for a while at least I had a dog that did lie down – on his belly. So what happened? My brain happened. Once I got my dog to lie down, I had to tell him to do something else, anything else. Come bye, away to me, walk up, and do it quickly. My brain needed time to think about which direction come bye or away to me was. I had to be sure that if I gave a direction, he went the correct way. So I let him lie there while I thought. While he lay there, the sheep would wander off. Letting him lose his sheep, his Shangri-la, his reward for doing the right thing, convincing Data that I was a bone fide idiot. Ultimately, Data’s utter belief in my idiocy convinced him that he knew better than I did, and lying down was no longer an option, unless I ran up the field at him yelling and screaming like a fool. Now, perhaps I really am an idiot, but I prefer to think that I am not that daft. It is my firm belief that this is a common mistake we novices make. We need to act quickly and we need to think. Some of us more than others I’m sure, but we all need to think about the directions. We want to do it right, and in our zeal to learn and compete and train our dogs, we inadvertently do it wrong.

Five years later, I am working on lying my dog down, on his belly, 100% of the time. Rather than having to wait for my brain, I just shush him immediately after he lies down and it really doesn’t matter which direction he goes because I didn’t ask for one. If he makes a mistake, I just take the sheep away from him as opposed to letting the sheep get away. I’m just putting an appropriate amount of pressure on him for making a mistake. The behavior I want from the correction is not for him to lie down, but to acknowledge that he made a mistake. As soon as he concedes the point, I shush him around the sheep – his reward. I’m not running or yelling. Data is happy about lying down, and I’m not frustrated.

We still have a lot of work to do and, provided my mentors keep me in check, Data and I should enjoy the remainder of our career together. What I feel was most important for me to learn was that lie down really DOES mean lie down – at least as a novice. Sometimes in competition, all you need is a stop on the feet and then a quick flank, but that is a different level than I am at right now. Most importantly, I have learned a couple different ways of HOW to make him lie down.

James Bond

James Bond, Bond for short, was born in May of 2008. He is so very different from Stella when she was his age. She was the Whirling Dervish and Bond is more like the secret agent he was named after. Although his namesake tends to trash a lot of really cool stuff during his missions, this version of Bond has ruined nothing, although I am still waiting.

I got Bond in July of 2008 and immediately took him on the road with me. We went to several trials together and the young lad became wonderfully socialized to the entire scene. When he was just a wee babe, John would let him tag along to help with chores and John would pick him up so he didn't get trampled. Bond helped us with moving electro-net he became quite accomplished at not getting tangled up in it. When the grass was too long to come along he would just hang back and wait. He went for walks at trials with whomever was walking their dogs. He became quite well known to Viki and Carol as he was often trying to load himself up into Viki's van. Viki's van looks an awful lot like mine. Those weeks on the road made Bond think that we actually lived in the van, or at John and Cynthia's farm - he wasn't quite sure which. Once we got home, Bond settled into day to day life here in the city. He and Stella were fast friends. Data's hate for stupid puppies was evident, once again, from the get go. Data and Bond have since resolved their differences, Bond insisted on that, and they are good friends now.

Late last year, Bond had a small lump on his lymph node that became an enormous lump in very short order. After a few hundred dollars at various vets and a hefty round of antibiotics, he is a healthy pup.

I have had him on sheep a couple of times. Once when he was 11 weeks old at Grass Creek Park. He was a brilliant 11 week old. At present he is very keen albeit a bit youthful still. I am planning a trip south to take him to his birthplace for a visit and a further introduction to working sheep.

As always, I am ever hopeful that he and I will be stars.

Stella Continued

As I said before, Stella has always known she and I were meant to be together. She hasn't always known that she and I were supposed to be partners though.

Through the initial stages of her training, which got an almost too late a start, she was nothing short of intense. I had no idea how to train her. This sheep-herding thing made smoke come out of her ears. Almost literally! I struggled. She would dive in and bit. I would yell and stamp my feet and she dove in faster and harder. I tried to get between her and the sheep, she went faster with more and more smoke coming from her ears and her feet.

When she was about 15 months old I took her to Dal and Kate's for a lesson with Scott Glen. I had entered her in their trial but was still not sure if I would pull her or not. I was struggling with the aforementioned smoking problem but also was struggling with getting her to get up once I got her stopped. Scott helped me get her up on her feet and she started to show a bit of sense. I was still waffling with whether or not I would put her in the trial.

The day of the novice novice competition came around. I watched a few of the runs and knew that after our lesson with Scott, Stella would be capable of doing the work except the outrun which was too far for her. I decided to enter her. I went to the post with Cynthia. Cynthia held Stella's leash while I walked closer to the sheep. Then I yelled "Let her go!".

Just prior to us walking to the post, Cynthia and I discussed whether or not she should drop Stella's leash or take it off entirely. I said to just take it off.

Cynthia unclipped Stella's leash and off she went. I waved my stick a little at Stella when she started to come in too short, and Stella bent out ever so nicely. Around to the top, and I asked her to stop. She did. "walk up", she did. I repeated the "Lie down" followed by "walk up" all the way down the fetch. It was beautiful. My babydoll looked gorgeous. Stylish and controlled. In my enthusiasm I decided to push her farther than I knew she was capable, just because. We started to turn around the post and then that calm cool collected little sweetheart turned into the whirling dervish right before my and everyone else’s eyes. The chase was on!

Stella doesn’t like it when I laugh at her, but I continue to tell this story. That day my little Derv smashed head first into a tree. The bark went flying, and it didn’t slow her down one iota. Dal jumped on his 4-wheeler while I ran, screaming of course. Oh, just before I started my run to catch my little sweetheart I heard the judge say ‘thank you’. With Dal’s assistance we caught Stella and tied a farm leash on her, a piece of baling twine. I got her to the tub and left the field. Later that afternoon I was sitting in the handlers’ tent watching the other novices run their dogs and heard someone talking about the dog that ran in the morning who took the bark off the tree with her head. I turned, smiled and said, “that was MY dog!”

Dog #5 - Miss Stella

I waited so long for her. From the moment I met Clare, her mother, I knew I wanted a daughter from her. Data, Clare's brother, had placated me for a few years while I waited for Louise to breed Clare. I wanted a smooth coated, tri coloured bitch. Finally, in February of 2006, my shining Star, Stella, was born. The name Stella literally means Star.

As you know by now, each of my dogs hold so much promise when I get them and I imagine that we will be stars. This time I named my dog Star. There was no choice, no turning back. We are going to be stars.

The moment she was born Louise knew her and greeted her with "hello Stella". Stella has always known she and I were meant to be together. When she was 5 weeks old, I was giving her a cuddle and saying goodbye to her. As I went to put her on the floor so I could leave, she chomped on my ear lobe as if to say "NO! I'm going with you." I assured her she would come with me but she had to wait one more week. Begrudgingly, she complied.

The next week she came home. On the ride home she cried and whimpered for about half an hour and then fell asleep for the remainder of the drive. We got home and I put her crate beside the bed, kept some paper in the front of the crate for her to pee on if she had to go during the night. She took to her new raw diet rather greedily. To this day she is anything but genteel when she eats. She was the sweetest little thing. I took her everywhere with me. At the time I was doing a lot of work on site with a client so she stayed in a crate in the car. I introduced her to everyone, let them hold her, play with her, walk her.

As she grew those legs of hers, she also learned how to use them to run. FAST. I remember going for walks with Louise and all the dogs, one of them was Stella's littermate L'il. We put long lines on Stella an L'il, and often we would just hear the whir of the lines in the grass. The two of them ran so fast we often didn't see them, just heard the whizzing lines. Stella got wrapped around a tree occasionally, and when she was stuck she would bark until she saw me. That doesn't mean that I could see her though. Often I would search for her wishing she would bark just one more time, telling her to 'use her voice' to no avail. She could see me so it would just be stupid to keep on barking. I eventually found her, untangled her, give her a pat and she was off again. Stella seemed to have two speeds, red-line and asleep. She ran everywhere, sailing over gates and fences like a gazelle. Louse dubbed her 'Gazella' and ultimately we started calling her 'whirling dervish'.

I taught her to 'spit' that out and then when it came time to teach her to 'sit' she would open her mouth trying to 'spit'. I realized that I would have to come up with a new sit command, which became 'park it'. If anyone were to ask me HOW I taught her to spit it would be difficult for me to explain but she knows how to spit. It's quite humorous to see. Louise knows she has a spit word and asked Stella to spit from across the room. Stella happily spit whatever she had out making Louise laugh right out loud. Stella is really good at 'park it' too.

At 8 weeks old she noticed the sheep for the first time. The way only a Border Collie notices sheep. I remember it clearly because it was comical. She was outside going to the bathroom. The sheep walked by and while she pooped she pricked up her ears (the only time both of her ears ever pricked) and tipped her head. I dubbed the moment "Border Collie Shangri-la".

After experiencing Data's issues with water, I was determined that Stella was going to like the water. At the Kingston Sheep Dog trials, Louise and I went for a drive and took the pups with us. We found an isolated(ish) boat launch and took the puppies out on the dog. Stella, not realizing that the dock ended, just kept on walking right into the water. I had her on a line and helped her back onto dry land. She walked back onto the dock and literally dove into the water. My concern was completely unwarranted.

As Stella matured I started to put her on sheep. Although Stella always knew she and I were meant to be together she never quite understood that we were supposed to be partners. She lived up to her whirling dervish name....