It has been many years since I fell in love with Lassie. Lassie - the books, the TV show, the movie... the dog. What a beautiful dog. Then 30 or so years later when I met my husband to be he told me that around the very time that a whole generation of kids were begging their parents for a Collie, his dad came home with a beautiful Collie pup. Right at the peak of Trudeau mania, there was no other choice... the dog was named Trudeau. I kinda hated Paul for a minute... you know that flash of red hot envy that streaks through you when someone tells you they had something that you had set your heart's desire on? Yeah that was me.
But as dogs often do, Trudeau met an untimely, tragic end ...but I still have my 89 cent hardcover novels from W.W. Young and Sons General Store!
And all Paul has are a few blurry photos and many, many years of wonderful collie dog memories. Take that O'Brien! (Lame, I know.)
Well my love of Collies stayed with me, through a dogless childhood, into the ownership of a cute little Beagle, a Blue Belton Setter, and two miniature Schnauzers. All loved. All cute. But not a Collie. Then somewhere during my early adult years I met a Sheltie. He was a sweet little thing, tiny and just a little bit yappy and just so pretty. And I knew then that I would never own a Collie. I would someday own a Sheltie. Or what's probably more accurate, a Sheltie would one day own me. And I grimace just a little when someone calls a Sheltie, a Miniature Collie... because seriously? They aren't!
Fast forward to 2005. My 47th birthday and I "just happened" to wander into Pet City and into the dog section ( Thankfully pet stores no longer sell puppies and I agree wholeheartedly with this decision). In one of their glass fronted kennels I came face to face with the dog. Gangly, 4 month old mahogany sable Sheltie. I smiled and walked away. Then walked back. He was lying on his side, long legs extended and his eyes staring off into space. I shook my head, told myself that he was too old and too set in his ways, too broken AND we already had two dogs at home. Then the back door of the kennel opened and they put a little Jack Russell terrier in with him and he came ALIVE! He was a different dog! Playful and happy and curious. I looked at Erin. Erin looked at me and I took out my cell phone and called Paul. And the rest they say is history. Insanity's finest hour
And what a history it was. He was year old before he could jump up on a sofa. He barely mastered the three steps between the two levels of the house. Sometimes it took him five or six tries to get up the steps into the trailer. He was a BIG Sheltie standing almost 20 inches at his withers and weighing close to 40lbs.. ( anything over 16" for a Sheltie is oversized). The other two dogs barely tolerated him despite his best efforts to be included. And he was a timid dog. SO timid.
He scared away every crow that flew in the sky, every squirrel that dared climb a tree and his efforts to keep the driveway next door free of cars could only be described as heroic. He chased each and every car up and down that driveway and I tell ya, if that fence hadn't separated him from the drivers, he would have licked them to death! When someone tells you that a Sheltie can be territorial, believe them! Finn took his territory very seriously, A very meek and mild Sheltie would be let in through the front door and he would go directly to the back door to be let out. And then he would put on a show - racing from one corner to the other, his tail a flag blowing in the wind. His head held high as surveyed the sky searching for any bird that dared invade his airspace. King Finnigan!
He loved his hikes on the East Coast Trail and went for miles dragging his leash behind him, constantly looking behind him to see if we were keeping up and circling back to round us up in good Sheltie style before heading on down the path always a few steps ahead of us.
Finnigan (and Gus) outlived Brady, the apricot poodle-terrier mix that came to live with us when my ex-husband got sick. And then Finn outlived Gus, the schnauzer who had cancer and crossed Rainbow Bridge 15 months before Finnigan did. Finn was 7 when his seizures of two years became unmanageable and began to cause damage to his sight, his balance and his hearing. The charts that I was keeping showed more frequent, longer and more violent seizures. I was a nervous wreck, listening through the night for the telltale noises of yet another bout of seizures that would sometimes come in threes and fours and leave him exhausted and disoriented for hours. And we asked ourselves if we were being cruel to keep him with us. I read everything I could on seizures in dogs. I joined internet groups devoted to seizuring dogs, kept every vet appointment and advocated for drug changes and cooked good wholesome food for him. And then I found this:"When our pets are suffering, they don’t reflect on all the great days they have had before, or ponder what the future will bring. All they know is how they feel today. By considering this perspective, we can see the world more clearly through their eyes. And their eyes are what matter."
Well, Finn's eyes were clouded that Sunday morning when I called the vet. He growled at me as I approached him on the deck but then he recognized my voice and as I sat down at his level he nuzzled my face and licked my cheek just as he had done a million times before.
After a pet dies, one of three things is likely to happen. You get another pet immediately. You swear off pets forever. Or you grieve and slowly heal and then consider getting another one. Well I was sure I was sworn off pets forever. Losing Gus and then my beautiful Finn in just 15 months was just too much. And I rationalized it so well in my mind. I could wear black again and sit on the sofa without getting covered in dog hair! I didn't have to worry about kennel cough and rabies vaccines and did I de-worm him yet this month? We could just pick up and go anywhere without kennel costs, and people who didn't like dogs could come to our house. The freedom was infinite! And the hole left was immense.
Our time in Inuvik came just 6 months after Finn's passing. I had told Paul that I would go anywhere with him as long as we could drive and take Finn with us. So Inuvik was a long ways away? No problem. He would go ahead and find a pet friendly apartment. He'd fly home and we'd drive up in June when the roads opened up. Easy. But Finn died before then and the next 22 months was a healing time for me. And two weeks after arriving home in June of 2014, I made the call and had a lovely chat with the man behind Windy Meadows and the most beautiful Shelties I have ever seen.
But we still weren't decided. I wrote the deposit cheque but didn't mail it. And we discussed all summer the pros and cons of putting the deposit down on another puppy. This one from a superb breeder right here in the province. A tiny, perfect puppy with none of Finnigan's issues of being so old when he was adopted. Then Paul decided for us with just five little words, "I miss having a dog." The day after Labour Day we drove to Branch and saw the prospective mommies and the beautiful daddy to be. And I left the cheque.
Sailor was going to be Sailor whether male or female. Sailor Moon if it was a girl and Sailor Boy for the male. A good choice I think. Sailor Boy has turned out in his three months with us to be a plucky little fellow. When he wanted to come into the house when he was a tiny little fellow, he would anchor his front paws over the doorstep as far as he could reach and scramble with the back ones to get himself inside. Plucky. He mastered the steep basement stairs in just two tries. He has been jumping on the sofa since he was three months old. He was SO easy to housebreak and stopped chewing on precious objects the day he got his last permanent tooth! He loves the car, visitors, cuddles and does tricks like they are going out of style. Rollover, fetch, bring it back, play dead, Sheltie bow, sit, high fives, give paw... a dog genius I am sure!
There are bound to be ups and downs in this dog loving process. And as sad as it will be when the day comes, I hope to outlive this little guy and cry over his passing 10-15 years down the road. Until then? Come visit us and get to know our little fellow. I promise you will leave here covered in dog fur and dog kisses... if you let him!
And I am happy to say that it was great decision because there's a lot of puppy love... here in Lethbridge!
