True Love

One of the most intimate and rewarding relationships I have is with a six year old.

That may sound a bit weird until you realize that this isn't with a child, but a bitch. Not just any bitch, but one with an opposable thumb and middle finger.

My involvement with Dot was intense before she even arrived. I spent a year searching for a breeder for a new puppy - not just any puppy of course but a border collie bitch, confident and stable - as my agility partner. A year!! That may sound excessive, but I've found that taking so much time enables me to be really sure, totally comfortable, with a decision. Dogs live at least 12 years; it's not a choice I make lightly.

With patience and persistence I found a breeder, one with high standards and exceptional lines. With luck she had a puppy that sounded right; she approved our home, and the match was made. With Dot, I got so much more than I could have ever expected. She is my friend, my partner, and - frequently - my teacher.

What has happened over the past several years has been a roller coaster of hope, despair, adjustment, bliss, and change. From emergency surgery to a string of first place finishes and easy titles to career-ending injuries to new sports to conquer, Dot has done everything I've ever asked, with mind-blowing speed and intensity. As her seventh birthday approaches, I flinch at the thought that the ride is half over. I love Dot more than air; she is so far deep inside my being that I am incapacitated by the notion that I will, someday, be forced to be without her.

There are great dogs: dogs that do things we determine to be great, dogs that make the news for heroic deeds, dogs that change peoples lives though quiet acts. And there are dogs that effect change through sheer force of presence; Dot is a force of nature. She is tough - incredibly tough - in mind and spirit.

But she is reckless; her body has proven to be more fragile than her will, and that has cost us both quite dearly. For good or ill, with Dot it is never about the journey, it's only about the destination. And getting there as fast as speeding bullet, sometimes with as much destruction.

There are no "freebies" with Dot, every day is a challenge. Despite that, her ability and willingness to try anything that occurs to either her or me is a constant joy. Agility? Her first three runs on the field were all blue ribbons, picking up a standard title her first weekend. No other dog was within 10 seconds of her time. (She retired with only two titles after destroying both an elbow and a knee. Speed kills.) Herding? The first two instructors I took her to offered to either buy her or train and trial her for me. (She has titles in three venues, with me at the crook.) Obedience? We went into the ring to try it, and half way through Dot told me that it was repetitive and dull and would I *please* pay attention to how boring it was? (She was right, and we never went back.) Rally? That has been both fun and entertaining, as her obsession with jumps sometimes overpowers her attention while heeling - but the titles racked up anyway. Her official name is: Turandot, CGC, NAC, TN-N, HCT, STD-s, JHD, PT, HTD, RAE

Dot is a typical border collie - intense, intelligent, and a little bizarre. She loves watching TV; her favorite programs involve animals - no cartoons, however - and pro bull riding not to be missed. She is both a supreme alpha bitch and exceptionally gentle with puppies. She flings tennis balls into your knees for another throw (once training a neighbor to throw for her by stuffing the ball through a hole in the fence), is an exceptional foot warmer on the sofa and in bed, and an incomparable traveling companion. She is safe with babies, cats, and has no interest in food - and we have to spell s-h-e-e-p or she heads to the door, eager to work.

She is also completely unique. No other dog I know can turn on the TV, or understands that the remote control is needed to change the channel. At a dead run she has a double-suspension gallop, rare outside sighthound breeds. She will meet any dog's challenge with fire in her eye, but is completely non-lethal. Only Dot sleeps on the bed, every night. And she is dead safe with all people. Dot can herd cattle, goats, and sheep, but not ducks. There's nothing she can't learn, and quite a lot I'm not entirely sure how she figured out. I speak to her in complete sentences, and she often replies in kind.

A couple of years ago we went to a herding trial in the morning (she took first and finished a title), then drove a hundred miles to an agility trial in the afternoon. On a lark I entered her in an class with no jumps. After second-guessing myself as we waited our turn, then getting a terrible case of nerves as we went in the ring, it began. We ran as one, sharing vision, breath, heartbeat, focus, and joy. Agility can do that - two species with a single soul. For fifteen seconds, we were one being. Agility veterans call it "the dance" and it is as powerful as any addictive substance. After crossing the finish line I collapsed into tears; thankfully my son was there to catch me and Dot. They were complicated tears: happiness, release, anger and frustration of all the years of dancing we missed because of injury - and temptation to compete again anyway, just to feel it, one more time. Dot sparkled and begged to go again; she felt it too.

Her size, coat, and color (leggy, smooth, tri) elicit comments, and recently people have referred to her as both young looking and beginning to gray. I only see her eyes, locked on mine, unblinking, screaming with intensity, full of challenge and sentience and mischief. The love of my life; may she reign forever.