My bubba and my person

Hi everydog. You might have been wondering where I've been (at least I like to think you've been wondering that--it helps feed my delicate ego). My person went away for a long time to stay with the toddler in her family (some of you might remember when the toddler came to visit me). Toddlers are human puppies. In dog time, a 2-year old toddler is like a 3 month old puppy. Old enough to feed themselves, but not old enough to keep the food in the bowl all the time.

People believe that our ages and their ages are related by "7"--people think that a 1 year old dog is like a 7 year old human. So a three-year old like me is the equivalent of a 21-year old human. Where do you think they got that idea?? Why "7" and not "8" or "6". It sounds to me like a lot of what they do--make something up that seems like it might be right based on their random, ad hoc observations of the world and then pretend it's true. Humans really do seem to believe that saying something a lot is what makes it true.

If only they really followed the dog method, which is to read the pee. That tells you all you really need to know about anything. Or at least they could follow their own scientific method.

Anyway, we're glad to have my person back 'cause the other person was getting pretty worn out walking, feeding and playing with all of us each day and she needed some time to do her important reading that she does every night while we let her share the couch with us.

So the title of my entry today is "my bubba and my person". You've heard about my person. My bubba is Hamish. See the toddler girl in Florida where my person was for so many long days calls her older brother "bubba". It's kind of cute in that way that Southerners are (not that I'm patronizing or anything--really, some of my best friends are southerners), and so I decided that's what I'd call Hamish from now on. Sort of poke fun at the people for giving him such a haughty, British name. So, here's a very sweet picture of Bubba.
He likes to take my person's shoes and just lay with them. When he was a pup, he'd chew them all up, but now, he just likes to have it with him--kind of like a security blanket. Sometimes, he tries to make it look like somedog else took them. As in the picture below
See, it looks like I'm the culprit with the shoe, but really, Bubba brought the shoe there and I just happened to be on the bed at the same time. Really.

And last, here's why I love my bubba-boy. What other dog would sleep with his sister curled up against him like that? I bet you wish you had a bubba-dog too.

Work. (Guest Blog)

Rafe here.

I'm a working dog. Play, sure, but work is what it's all about. Don't have sheep every day, yet, but still find work.

Those pups Hamish and Kyzer, don't know about them. Here's what I'm talking about:



See how I stay on task, chewing the bone:



Back to work now.

Woof,
Rafe

Hmmm. (Guest Blog)

Rafe here.

Morning reconnoiters this week. Puzzling. Object between sidewalk and street, on second block of walk. Gave it a wide berth first two days: walked a curve into house lawn, bad manners but necessary. Third day walked up to it, carefully.




Here's a close-up:



Sources report it's a Dried Hydrangea Blossom. Curious, a DHB in the snow, middle of February. More curious, next day:



Gone.

Any other DHB sightings out there?

Woof.
Rafe

Westminster makes me sad

I try not to talk politics in public since I know it's in bad taste, but last night my people watched the Westminster Dog Show. Even though I know that there is never anything completely black and white in the dog world (except maybe Border Collies), I wanted to offer some thoughts on AKC Border Collies in particular. Before I do, though, everydog should get their people to donate some money to a humane society,rescue group or animal welfare group. The pedigree commercial is right--every dog should have a home.

On to Border Collies. I'll say upfront that not everyone will agree with me on this, but really, it's my blog, so I get to say what I want to about things I think about.

It wasn't so long ago that Border Collies were not recognized by the AKC and we Border Collies mostly thought that was a good thing. See, we're bred to work and really that's the only reason we should be bred. Sure, not all of us can become the top, top working dogs and many of us excel at other kinds of things too. But, one of the reasons we have all the characteristics we do is precisely because we were bred for a particular purpose, herding livestock, and not for a particular look or for some other purpose, like playing agility or being sweet, lovely gentlepups who give the most delicate kisses in the world.

The less we are bred for working stock, the faster we lose many of the traits that make us Border Collies. That means that while people can *do* whatever they want to with the Border Collies once they have them, the only ones who should be *bred* are the ones who have proven they are great at working livestock. Although my packmates and I are wonderful in every possible way, we shouldn't be bred. Which is not to say that we shouldn't have been *born*--just that we haven't proven ourselves on livestock-- and since we haven't, we shouldn't compete in the gene pool.

There was a whole lot of debate, and there still is, about whether Border Collies should be recognized by Kennel Clubs and thus bred for a particular conformation (e.g. a particular look).

So anyway, I just watched the Border Collie judging at Westminster with my person. What you notice immediately is that none of those Border Collies look much like me and my pack. Just to remind you what we look like, here we are (ignore Renzo here):

Here are some comments from the breed standard:

Ears: Ears are of medium size, set well apart, one or both carried erect and/or semi-erect (varying from 1/4 to 3/4 of the ear erect). When semi-erect, the tips may fall forward or outward to the side. Tansy has "semi-erect" ears; I have one ear carried erect; Hamish has both ears carried erect and Rafe has zero ears carried erect. We represent all the ear types found in Border Collies

Coat: Two varieties are permissible, both having close-fitting, dense, weather resistant double coats with the top coat either straight or wavy and coarser in texture than the undercoat which is soft, short and dense. The rough variety is medium in length without being excessive. Forelegs, haunches, chest and underside are feathered and the coat on face, ears, feet, fronts of legs is short and smooth. The smooth variety is short over entire body, is usually coarser in texture than the rough variety and may have slight feathering on forelegs, haunches, chest and ruff. Neither coat type is preferred over the other. Tansy, Hamish and I are "rough" coated; Rafe and Kyzer are "smooth". Tansy and Hamish have a wavy coat; the rest of us have a straight coat. We represent most of the coat types found in Border Collies except for the really curly ones and the really fluffy, long ones.

Color: The Border Collie appears in all colors or combination of colors and/or markings. Solid color, bi-color, tri-color, merle and sable dogs are to be judged equally with no one color or pattern preferred over another. White markings may be clear white or ticked to any degree. Random white patches on the body and head are permissible but should not predominate. Color and markings are always secondary to physical evaluation and gait. Kyzer is almost entirely black; Tansy, Kyzer, Hamish and I have "ticking"; Rafe and Hamish are tri-colors (Hamish is a "red" tri-color and Rafe is a "black" tri-color). I have a "split" face. We represent a very small subset of the possible color types found in Border Collies.

What you notice in the standard is that BCs should have a lot of variety because what matters isn't what we look like, it's how we work. Our working ability is pretty hard to encode in a breed standard, though, so that's not really an important part of the package. And that's sad since it's the work that has defined us for hundreds of years.

When you look at the BCs that go to dog shows, you see little of this variety. Despite the breed standard, show Border Collies, and especially the top ones, are almost all black and white, with no ticking or merle and almost never tri-colored. They are rarely smooth-coats, and their coats are almost always the long, fluffy kind. Their ears are never pricked. The almost never have a split face and rarely have wavy or curly hair.

So, basically, there is lip-service to variety, but they are clearly being bred to look a very certain way since that's what wins at shows. Which means, they are not being bred first and foremost to be workers.

It also means that people almost never know that any of the dogs in my pack are BCs. I come about the closest to be "recognizable" to most people--but my speckles tend to throw folks off. Hamish is often thought to be part Sibe; Rafe is thought to be Rottie or Shepherd--some folks have even said that he doesn't have any border collie in him at all. Tansy has been called a cattle dog cross and we're sure that Kyzer will be seen as many things but probably rarely as a border collie.

We don't care so much about that, but I sure wish people would stop mucking around with our beauty genes and go back to focusing on our working genes.

Hiya, I'm Renzo

Hi everydog. I'm Renzo, first dog of the pack. I trained the kitties first. I played flyball first. I snuggled with the people first. I taught them to give treats first. I took them to obedience class and agility class first. Heck, I taught those doofy people what it means to live with a dog. If it weren't for me, there wouldn't be a Pippin, Tansy, Hamish, Rafe or Kyzer. No sheep for them either. I'm important in this pack.

Even though you haven't heard much from me before, I came before the Border Collies. I'm a polite dog and know that those Border Collies are a pretty pushy crowd, so I let them talk first. But as they say, every dog must have his or her day. Today is mine.

I'm a reluctant leader of the pack. I won't be too sad if one of those young boyz decides to step up and accept some responsibility one of these days. No one gruffs with me or tries to take my stuff. If they ask nicely, I give it to them. They know I'll always be first dog.

I can run like the wind and jump like a spring. I assign all the jobs in the pack. If anydog is sleeping on the bed, it's me. I am the mutt, the most important and special dog of the pack. I like sharing my people with Border Collies.

They have to remember, though, that I was here first.

Finally some musings from ME

I don't know if others noticed, but I certainly did. Several of my packmates were given the opportunity to blog since I last commandered the opposable thumbs. I would be completely outraged if I didn't have so much to say.

1. It is cold here. I mean REALLY, REALLY cold. Ice-balls on the feet cold. Frozen feet in milliseconds cold. All of my tennis balls are really hard rocks of slobber-ice cold. This morning as my person contemplated our morning walks, she checked the temperature and it was -8. She opted to keep us and herself in the warm house. This is all wrong and I'm officially logging a complaint (though I am very thankful that I don't have to live outside like some of the dogs in my neighborhood).

2. The young boyz at my house are stinky. They all seem to have particular strengths in the silent, take-no-prisoners flatulence department. They make it up somewhat, however, by looking quite adorable together on the couch.

3. My people, with only minimal consultation with me, have decided to take a break from flyball. I don't know what this means for the status of my *flyball* blog, but since I haven't been talking about flyball for a while, maybe "flyball" can simply take on an ironic flavor. I have to admit that I'm not all that sad about not doing flyball because, for those of you who were early adopters of my blog will no doubt remember, I never really liked flyball all that much. Still, my people had a hard time deciding to take the break since it means they'll miss other people they like a lot. But, that's what happens in a busy world sometimes. The only real change you will notice is that I no longer sign my posts and comments at Pippin the flyball dog, but the far more descriptive and appropriate, Pippin, the Gentle pup

4. My people went to a sled dog race on Saturday and came home talking about "hooking Rafe up". I'm not exactly sure what that means, but since it's not about me, I'm not going to pay it all that much mind. And if it means the lug-oaf puppy might learn some manners, all the better (he was a particularly evil starer last night and got into repeated scuffles with me, Tansy, Hamish and even Renzo. If I used such terms, I might have called him some naughty names that start with letters like "b", "a" and "s". But since I'm not that kind of gal, I'll leave it to your imaginations.

Stay warm, pups!

Guest Blog

Greetings, Gentledogs!

I am Tansy. My flock-mate Pippin asked me to contribute to the blog. I am a humble sheep dog, and am uncertain as to what to tell you. When our people are gone, Pippin tells of tales from the dogblog world - all your lives are so interesting and exotic to us! Opy and Charlie in Australia, watching Beverly Hills 90210! The Army of Four holding up walls in Kansas! Charlie Kelley-Church dealing with snow in New Mexico! Chester a fellow BC in Singapore! Isabella the beautiful Florida poodle who may go to Singapore!

I could speak to you of my simple life - my runs in the park with young Hamish, my tummy rubs on the bed, toast crusts at breakfast, an almond at an unexpected time, relaxing on the couch while listening to Yundi Li's Chopin CD. Or I could speak of my duties as senior bark officer of our flock - difficult work, but very rewarding as well.

At this moment, however, I must nap.

Until later, I remain yours sincerely,
Tansy Cakes.

Puppy party (Guest Blog)

Hi everydog, it's me, Kyzer. Pippin said it was o.k. if I borrowed the computer to tell you about my week-end (Pippin also said to tell our people that she'd like a special week-end sometime too, but I haven't done it yet.)

I got to go on a long car ride and meet up with all my brothers and sisters plus my mommy and daddy and all their people. We had a puppy party!!

Besides the nine of us, our half-brother, Whisk, and half-sister, Badger, (my dad was a busy fellow last summer--but it was all planned of course) and a friend of Millie and Royal's named Mel were there too. There were also some non-Border Collie dogs around. They were a lot smaller than me, but older, so I was sure to lick their faces and tell them I wouldn't do anything bad.

The people tried to get pictures of all of us, but as you can imagine with 10 puppies, it was pretty hard. We got one picture with all of us littermates and Mel--you can see it on the left there. We all look pretty similar but our people can still tell us apart.

I have the most black on my face; my brother Royal has one almost completely black leg plus a "split face"; Gus is a tri-color and has curly hair like our mommy; Maddie has a wide blaze and looks the most like our daddy; Bracken has a lot of speckles on his blaze and his ears stand up already; Emma is tiny, jowly and tri-colored; Millie has a crooked blaze and has a cool black mask. So, see, we're all a little different.

Our personalities are different, too. I think I'm the most contemplative and if I were a human kid, I'd be the one sitting in the corner reading a book while all the other kids ran around like crazies. I'd also be the one who wanted to tag around with the teen-agers rather than play Chutes and Ladders with the kids.

It was a whole lot of fun. One of the people baked a doggie cake made with chicken and carrots and we all got a piece, plus some "Frosty Paws" which is doggie ice cream. It was yummy for the tummy.

We got to play and play. I said hi to my mommy but she seems to like my brother Royal the best of all. She lives with him still, so she knows him best. I wasn't a pest or anything and she wasn't mean to me, but I could just tell that she didn't really want to play. That's o.k. I have my own pack now and they play with me all the time. That's just part of growing up to be a dog.

Daddy was even less interested in me than mommy. He's a pretty big dog with strong muscles, and now we know where I get my size (I'm by far the biggest of my brothers and sisters). He seems like a nice dog and he didn't gruff at anydog.

I know he's a good worker--that's why he got picked to be my daddy. I want to be a good worker, too, just like him and my mommy.

Well, I guess that's about it from the puppy party. I also got to go to the sheep herding lesson on Saturday, but that's really more a story for Pippin, Hamish, Tansy or Rafe to tell. They actually worked the sheep; I just slept in my crate in the car and poked around in the snow. I'm too little to do much with the sheep. I also hung out with Royal and Millie, but they know each other a LOT better than they know me, so they mostly played together and I snuffled around. Plus, as I said up there, I mostly just like to play with the boyz in my pack. I mean if you can play with big dogs, why stoop down to puppies?

Bath: Not Fun But Okay

Rafe here. Had a bath last night. (Amber, you wrote too late. Thanks for thinking of me though.)

Thought it was something good. My favorite person called me - me alone, no Hamish or Miss Tansy - into the bathroom. Took my collar off - fine, I'm quieter that way. Took the Fox-cat out of the bathtub. Should have been a sign - if the cat likes this place, the dog won't. Then whoa! I was picked up and put in the bathtub! Got out lickety-split and hunkered down. Did something I shouldn't have, but there was a towel to clean up. Then the other person came and put me in the tub again. My person told me to think of sheep on a warm June day, away, lift, fetch, drive, pen, cool off in the water tank. That got me through it. Even didn't want to get out when the water spray stopped. Got a nice rub-down, shook off, then went out to show off to the pack. My white was white, brown was brown, black was black. Thought I smelled good too. Little Hamish didn't think so, kept following me and growling. Hey, it's not like I was at the clean place with smooth floors and other dogs and people in white coats who poke you. Just had a bath. Now I'm Clean.

Woofs,
Rafe

Week-end score: Dogs: 4; Cats: 2; People: 3

My people took Renzo, Hamish and Kyzer to a flyball tournament on Saturday and Sunday. My favorite person, Moni, came and checked on me, Tansy and Rafe. The people took Renzo because he was competing (and did a good job as always--reliable Renzo we call him--he bobbled the ball once, but otherwise was spot on); they took Kyzer because he's a baby (though Renzo told me he didn't act like a baby at all and was very good with all the people petting him. He even figured out by the end of the day on Saturday that it's safe to pee even if you have a leash attached to you--that's hard to learn, so we were all proud); they took Hamish because he scored two points during the week by eating a hole in a pair of sleepy pants AND in the replacement fuzzy fleece sweater that one of the people bought to replace another one that he'd eaten a hole in. Hamish had a pretty boring time and said he would have rather stayed with us. We considered calling the people for "unnecessary dog removal" (since they are exercising an unfair advantage afforded them by their opposable thumbs, ability to walk upright and of course the fact that they have the keys to the car), but we decided instead that we like the challenge of having only three dogs on the home front to play the game.

We at home dogs also scored two points when we ate the last remaining spatula in the house AND the handle of the special cheese-slicer thingy that one of the people bought in Germany. That means that the dogs scored 4 points over the week.

Even the cats got in the game. Actually, it was just the scary kitty, Fox, who destroyed two rolls of toilet paper (thus earning two points as well). Our friend Moni told our people that she came to let us out and there was toilet paper everywhere. She blamed us, but the people know as well as we do who the toilet-paper-meister is.

The stupid people did score some points of their own. First, they saved one roll of toilet paper by hiding it in the medicine cabinet. They also saved one pair of pants from having its pockets chewed out (that was my bad--they were watching football, so I thought it was safe. One of the people came up to get a pair of socks and found me with the pants before I could chew out the pocket--I apologized to the rest of the team for not paying enough attention). Finally, they saved one shoe from Kyzer. That should hardly count as a point since Kyzer is hardly a real player, but the people whined so much that we gave it to them. So, they scored three points.

Animals are still ahead by three and we have an excellent game plan. We may be a little bit hindered since the people have reinstituted the "young dogs must be crated when there are no people at home" rule, which means that only Renzo and Tansy are loose in the house. But, two six year old dogs with a lot of experience under their belts are a fair enough match, we think.

DNN (Dog News Network) Headlines:
1. Rafe Gets Bath Tonight Due to Itch
2. Pippin Held In Living Room Against Her Will In Battle with Fox, the Cat
3. Hamish Learning New Trick to be Unveiled Soon
4. Kyzer Rules Puppy Kindergarten
5. Tansy has the Last Laugh in Battle with People over Barking
6. Renzo Reclaims Fuzzy Bed
7. Cats Still Get to Sleep in Bed while Dogs have to Sleep in Crates. Dogs Considering Arbitration

How to horka

I thought I'd show everyone that, although I am a gentlepup in every conceivable way, I do sometimes act just a wee bit naughty. Normally, I don't destroy toys, but my person captured me in the actual act of dismembering a fleece toy. Don't I look proud?

Several folks asked in response to my last blog how my people learned about forced vomiting--or "horka-ing" if you're speaking Dog. Well, they learned about it after Renzo had to spend two days at the emergency vet after he ate a bag of dark Hershey's kisses. For those who don't know, chocolate tastes just as good to us as it does to the people, BUT, it affects us like cocaine does people and we can overdose on it pretty easily. By the time my people got Renzo to the vet, he was completely wired for sound and the vets and the people were pretty worried about him.

When my people told the story to some of their dog friends, the friends told them about the hydrogen peroxide. Before they used it the first time (on me, with the Dobie pad mentioned in previous post), they double checked with their vet (because that's the kind of geeks they are), who verified that H2O2 is a fine emetic (though of course "fine" is a matter of perspective).

On a more pleasant note, we have finally gotten some colder weather--we had some ice (which caused a HUGE limb to fall off one of our trees, but luckily the only damage it did was to explode a bird feeder--it came mighty close to the house, though.

More importantly, our agility lessons are back on the docket--I went Monday night and Tansy and Hamish go tonight. Tomorrow night, Kyzer goes for Kindergarten. Rafe and Renzo are sitting out this round, but they said they didn't mind--it must be an R-name thing. We also got to go work the sheep on Saturday--which was great since we hadn't seen them for a few weeks. They told us rather haughtily that they hadn't missed us a bit. For that, I ran at them extra fast and ignored my person when she told me to "lie down". Sometimes you just have to take the penalty to reinforce proper respect and all. I learned that from watching football.

And just for a gratuitous finish--here's a shot of Rafe and Kyzer sharing a doggie bed. Aren't they sweet? You'd never know what a lug-oaf Rafe is by the looks of him lying there, would you. Thank heavens, I'm around to keep the record straight.

Puppies trump computer time

It is hard to choose the computer over the puppy, friends. This is one reason why I haven't blogged in over a week. Kyzer is getting bigger--he'll be 12 weeks old on Saturday. The best thing is that we think he might be a one ear up; one ear down border collie like me (and Chester) !! If you look at the picture, you can see that his ears are doing different things. Puppies ears flop around for a while before they decide what they're going to do; but from the looks of it, he's going to have the his left ear up and his right ear down. Just the opposite of me--we'll be like bookends.

There we are hanging out in the sunshine together.
The other reason I haven't blogged is that my person went away, leaving the other person to take care of all 9 of us kidz over the week-end. I don't know where the person went, but I think it was in a different time zone thing-y. She called home at weird hours. Anyway, she's back now and finally agreed to channel my thoughts.

This morning at the end of morning walks, my person found a half-eaten Dobie pad in the living room--I ate one of those when I was a puppy and it was the first time my people made me throw-up. You can see where this is going, I'm sure. When I ate it, I actually swallowed the whole thing, so it was really good that they made me throw it up since it would have probably caused a blockage in my gut somewhere--my people live in fear and trepidation of such a thing.

Anyway, my people naturally suspected Hamish and so he got the first treatment. For you dogs who don't know about this, you might want to put your paws over your eyes and hum so that you don't have to know how the people do this. Basically, they trick us into drinking hydrogen peroxide--1 teaspoon per 10 lbs of body weight. For Hamish, that meant 4 teaspoons mixed with some cheese. He lapped it right up.

Then he and the person waited. You could see he was feeling ookey and then after about 10 minutes, he chucked it all up. But, no sponge. Sadly, their big eye of Mordor then fell on me and I got the treatment. If they'd only asked, I would have honestly told them that I hadn't done it--having learned my lesson as a pup--and I would have pointed them in the right direction since I'd seen the act of sponge-eating in progress, but no, they didn't ask, so I didn't tell. Thus, I was subjected to the distinctly un-gentle-pup way of having to toss my cookies, too. Of course, there was no sponge. This left Rafe as the final likely suspect. Again, had they asked me, I could have told them and thus spared Hamish and myself from such unpleasantry. Of course, it was the oaf puppy. I tried to tell him that he wouldn't like the consequences, but like many teenagers, he just laughed at me, believing himself to be outside the laws of man and nature. He's sorry now.

I felt kind of bad for him since he looked pretty miserable, but hey, we all have to learn sometimes that our actions have consequences that we don't get to pick. Just ask Hamish--he gets fed hydrogen peroxide on a fairly frequent basis--indeed, he had to have it just last Saturday when he ate the better half of a plastic ball. Maybe one of these days one of those boyz will listen to me--but don't hold your breath.

My Number One New Year Priority

I feel like I've been on the moon for the last week since my person rudely decided to take a computer break, without any consultation with me or any serious concern for what I might need and want. She just flat out cut me off from friends and fans without an apology or any extra treats or cuddles. As usual, she will pay.

Being ever resourceful and loath to let time idly slip through my fingers, however, I took the opportunity to document our kitty, Fox's, utter treachery. I am now certain that he is using a divide and conquer strategy at our house and so far, he has won over the stupid people (they were naturally easy, easy marks) as well as most of the other animals.

I'm trying to ascertain what his ultimate intentions are, but in the meantime, I'm devising a plan to release the other animals from his clutches. Freeing my friends is my number one priority for the year. Pappy New Year's tagged me and I'll get on that in my next post (assuming the person doesn't decide to take yet another break--given what has happened with the cat, I guess anything is possible).

I think the humans are hopeless, so I've decided to just accept them as a loss--I figure that even caught by his evil spells they will continue to buy us yummy food and treats and find activities for us to do throughout the day. The others, though, need my help even if they don't see it that way....yet.

First, here is my evidence that Fox has lured all the other beings in the house but Fritz and me into his deceptive web. I documented these all in the week between Christmas Day and New Year's Day. You will note that in each image, Fox and the other critter are actually touching one another.

Tansy--my sistah, comrade in girly arms, I thought she had my back, but alas.

Renzo and I used to be the pack--united in our understanding of the natural boundaries between kitties and dogs, but clearly, no more.
Inji never liked me, but we had an understanding and I could always relate to her as the other cranky girl in the house. Now, though, she's obviously crossed to the dark side
Even though I nurtured him, loved him, cared for him as if he were my own, my goofy little brother Hamish didn't even think twice before succumbing to Fox' charms. He couldn't have hurt me worse if he had stabbed me with one of his canines. I don't think I'll ever recover from such a betrayal.
Once an oaf, always an oaf. I tried to teach him the path to gentlepupdom, but sadly, Rafe turned his back on the way of the righteous. He, too, chose the dark side.
I had hope for our newest packmate, especially since Fox kept his distance when he first arrived. Still, as such a baby, Kyzer was not much of a match for Fox--especially since Fox pretends to care about him by bathing him. I hope that I can lead this young pup back from the wilderness, but it will be a difficult task to be sure.
Please dear friends, let me know what you think I should do to make my home the safe haven it once was.

Happy Holidays Everyone

I've been Christmas tagged

I'm a little late in the game. I've had trouble getting computer time what with the puppy and all. My person just isn't getting on as much. That should soon pass, so we just have to be patient.

For Christmas tag, you say three things you want and three things you don't. Here are mine

Things I'd really like
1. I'd like at least three solo fetch sessions a day (right now, I often have to share with Rafe and he steals all the tennis balls)
2. More chest rubs sitting next to my person on the couch
3. For my favorite person, Moni, to visit me every day

Things I'd not like
1. Another new kitty2. Any kind of grooming or baths
3. For my person to keep trying to teach me to "roll over"

I tag Cubby, Pappy, Max, Ayatollah Mugsy and Chester

The Rules: The player of this game starts with "3 things he/ she would love to get for Christmas" and also has to list "3 things he/ she definitely does not want to get for Christmas". Then he/she tags 5 friends and list their names. The ones who get tagged need to write on their blogs about their Christmas wishes, as well as state this rule clearly, then tag 5 more victims. And the one who tags need to leave a comment that says "you've been Christmas tagged!" in their comments and tell them to read your blog.

A note on our puppy: Copper asked what kind of puppy he is and if he'll look like the rest of us. He's a little Border Collie and he will look a little bit like all of us (except for Renzo). He'll be speckly, black and white like Tansy and me; his ears will probably stand up like Hamish's; and he'll have a smooth coat like Rafe. Just like all of us, he has a white tip on his tail and his tail curls under like a shepherd's crook (little known Border Collie fact--when Border Collies are working, we hold our tails down, very close to our bodies, but when we play, we hold them up. There are some YouTube videos of Border Collies "herding", but you can tell they are really playing because their tail is up instead of down). He already has started to do the typical Border Collie crouch and stare that we use to make the sheep listen to us. He's been using it on the dastardly cat.

That picture up there is our holiday picture--we also used it to apply to the HULA hoop.

Puppy thoughts and other matters of importance

Hi friends,

It's me, Pippin, writing from my crate. Now that the secret is out about our new pack member, I have been able to safely return to the sanctity of my safe space. And none too soon. This very morning, as I was called to go for my morning walk, I carefully looked left and right to make sure that the scary Fox-kitty was not in the hallway. I really don't wish to rock any boats. I even took the alternative route to the front door--it's a longer route, but hey, if it means not confronting the cat, then no expense is too great. Do you know what happened. The scoundrel ambushed me again--leaping down from the piano and chasing me. I think war is on. Not at all helped by the fact that the cat has allegiances with all the other dogs in the house already--including the 7-week old puppy, with whom he plays and plays. Why, oh why, am I the only one who can see through his tricks? Sigh.

Kyzer, the new puppy packmate, is kind of boring. He mostly sleeps, eats, wrestles with the dastardly cat and pees. And pees. And pees. My people had completely forgotten how much a puppy pees. It's like every hour on the hour. Here's a very sweet picture of him sleeping in my person's arm. Doesn't he kind of look like a little Thumbelina? He's all curled up. That's Hamish's head trying to get a sniff of him. Today, Kyzer seems to be noticing that we big dogs will play with him. Up to now, he's mostly just interacted with his toys, our people and that cat. I've done several play bows and spins to try and entice him, but so far no luck. But he did bow at Hamish this morning outside. He got a bit overwhelmed when Hamish started to play with him, though--Hamish is a pretty rough fellow, but I think in time, he should have fun. Rafe, the oaf-puppy, is being a surprisingly outstanding older pack mate, even though he's hardly more than a puppy himself. He's only stolen Kyzer's stuff a couple of times.

The other big even in the house is the people's testosterone reduction program that has been on-going. As I think Hamish mentioned in a previous guest blog, Rafe left one day and then came back without his testicles. Boy, were Tansy and I overjoyed at that. Even though it takes a few weeks for the flow to really stop, we knew that we were on the downward slope with him finally. Little did we know that Hamish was scheduled for the snip-snip too. He got a brief reprieve so that he could finish his agility class, but lo and behold, on Monday he went away and he didn't come back until Tuesday. And since then, he's had to wear this contraption which is supposed to keep him from licking--poor guy can't do any normal grooming at all. His "procedure" was a bit more involved than Rafe's since Hamish was a "monorchid" (I'll let you look it up--I had to), so instead of surgical glue, he had to get stitches and be shaved and all of that. He doesn't seem too worse for the wear and that thing the vet said about no exercise except leash walks--well, you can imagine how that's been going. My person is trying hard to at least keep him from leaping on things. Poor guy doesn't know it yet, but he won't get to go herding on Saturday (or the next Saturday either)--talk about adding insult to injury.

Well, I've gone on long enough. I'll end with this very cute picture of Kyzer--he doesn't only sleep, eat, pee and forge alliances with the cat. He's also pretty darn cute almost all of the time.

Our newest recruit

Hi everyone,

We are proud to join Hershey and FuFu (and we are sure many others who are waiting in the ranks) as honorary Huskies in the fight to take over the world from the people (or, maybe, we should say take back the world by overthrowing these human interlopers who keep just screwing things up and leaving huge messes for us to clean up afterwards)

We in the pack are just elated over our induction into HULA (the Husky United Liberation Army) and we are honored to stand up with Meeshka and her band of Sibes in such a noble cause.

Of course, we are not Huskies, but we believe that it isn't necessarily the breed that matters, but the heart of the dogs and the dedication to thwarting people when they have stupid ideas. We have joined as a brigade, meaning that we can be mobilized as an entire unit. We are fleet of foot and quick on the spin, so we look forward to our marching orders from Meeshka, the soon to be queen, to whom we have pledged allegiance.

And, we already have a new recruit to the commando. Everydog, meet Kyzer, our 7-week old private straight off the farm--a.k.a our people's secret.

We have lots to teach him yet (but first he'll have to stay awake for more than 10 minutes at a time), but he seems like a quick learner. We explained to him right away how the people get really cranky if they haven't had enough sleep, so on his first night here, he slept through for almost six hours before his little bladder said "I can wait no longer." He's also already figured out that the little fences the people have up around their flower gardens are meant as guideposts into the garden rather than as the deterrents the people think they are.

I have to be honest and say that I wasn't all that excited when Rafe finally told the rest of us what he'd learned at herding camp. At that point, we knew that a young dog was on its way. But, now that he's here, I have to say that I kind of like the little buckaroo. Reminds me of back when the people brought home my goofy little brother Hamish and I adopted him as mine right away. Kyzer isn't quite the same, but I've still already been showing him some play bows to make him feel welcom

Plus, Fox, our new kitty, doesn't seem to like him much--score one for the puppy!

Guest Blog

hi !

Report from the field II (Guest Blog)

Hey Dogs

Rafe here. Miss Pippin is resting in her crate. Thought I'd get a word in. Herding camp was good, been back a few weeks. Got my "lie down" and "that'll do". Met a nice black-and-white gal named Daisy. Played with Jack who was also at camp. That's him in the picture. Says he's related to Hamish, don't know about that. Missed my pack. Missed chasing tennis balls. Hey Pappy, don't go cold turkey unless you have sheep around.

My people say I lost something recently, don't know what. I know I feel faster, more air-o-dynamic. So I think I gained something, not lost. Hmm.

Oh. Our pack knows something's up here. Has something to do with sheep herding. I told you I was at herding camp. My instructor's best trial dog was fixing to have pups soon. So I've been thinking. Maybe I'll talk with the pack.

Keep your barks short and sweet,
Rafe

Another piece of the mystery unveiled

Oh. Mi. Dog.

The people pulled a crate from storage in the basement--a crate. As in a dog crate. As in another dog. As in what on earth are they thinking. It's a small crate, too. Maybe it's another cat. Maybe it's a chihuahua. Renzo has whispered with great worry the possibility of a youngster, but the rest of us told him he was nuts. Why would the people get a youngster when Hamish and Rafe are finally turning into normal dogs. No, it's a terrier or a cat. I'm sure of it.

They are going to the Pet-Mart tomorrow to buy food--when they come home, we'll know for sure. The last piece of the secret. My head is spinning. Never in my wildest imagination.

All Quiet on the Western Front

Zim asked in a comment on Hamish's guest blog whether or not I had the questionable kitty in my crate with me. I'm here to report that it is not said kitty with me in the crate but rather one of his toys, which I brought to my crate for thorough investigation for signs of spying, enemy action or other nefarious deeds. I also brought some of the people's jeans (seen in the bottom right corner) for sustenance (since they ALWAYS have treat remnants in their pockets).

I am still up in the air on my assessment of Fox. He seems to get along well with the other dogs in the pack and plays all the time with Rafe and Hamish. Of course, they are not nearly as skilled at recognizing the signs of evil and wrong-doing as I am, so they take his boxing of their ears as play rather than as an attempt to implant tracking devices into their brains. They also assume that his hiding around corners and leaping out unexpectedly is a sign that he's their friend. I know from long experience that this can be used as a ploy by cats to lull unsuspecting dogs into certain danger.

Although the older dogs, Renzo and Tansy, seem unconcerned about Fox, I shot the photo below while wearing night goggles. You can see quite clearly that he is attempting to get into our food bags while the people are not there to supervise (which always seems to be the case with the stupid people--just when the potential for hazard is greatest, they go off to watch football or something).
I have decided that occasional, cautious forays out of the crate are safe, however. I am always careful to look high and low to locate Fox before settling for chewing a bone or giving Rafe a much needed lesson. If Fox so much as moves toward me, I hightail it back to the crate with a couple loud barks telling him to stay far away from me as I'm not susceptible to his charms.

It is important, however, that I make such moves since it is now only four days before the revelation of the people's big secret. I'm not sure at this point that we are going to be successful at ferreting it out beforehand, though believe me, it has not been for lack of trying. All dogs have been working tirelessly, but the people are just too cunning on this one. We are pretty sure that the secret involves an animate, possibly sentient, being since the people have been talking about warding off the cold once the furniture is moved.

Here are the most recent clues
1. Renzo overheard them say something about charging the camcorder batteries before Saturday.

2. Tansy caught the following snippet from an e-mail message "....noon...all going at once...easier that way."

3. Hamish and Rafe noted definite differences in the people's play bows, snuggles and tone of voice, indicating increased attention to obedience training for the two of them.

4. Finally, at my agility class last night, my person spoke for some time with the agility instructor, who kept looking at me and smiling.

Whatever does it all mean???

Report from the field (Guest Blog)

From the desk of Lt. Hamish Braeburn Moy


Hamish here reporting on recent events from the field.

Pippin has been directing operations from her crate as she trys to decide if our new kitty, Fox, is potentially a dangerous spy or possibly an enemy combative. Only a few days ago, Fox hid around the corner in the hallway and leapt out at Pippin as she meandered by. This caused her great alarm, and she immediately took to the crate to insure her own safety while she conducts the important mission of discovering the people's secret.

She only comes out to eat, to do her business and to humor the people with tug playing and butt scritching. (This is an important component in lulling them into believing we are not working to crack their secret, so even though it's perilous, she's a soldier for the cause.) She now has the added task of trying to figure out what Fox's intentions are. She's already a little worried that he's turning some of the troops, particularly the more established regiments, against her.
So, she asked me to report on our two important discoveries. While pretending to give kisses, I was able to sneak a glance at the piece of paper with the strange words on it. The people have since removed it, but we saw these words: kyzer (circled) zeki and something that looked like osk--but the people got the paper away before I could decipher it all.

We thought we'd figured it all out when Rafe disappeared for the whole day on Monday and returned in the evening without his testicles. We decided that the secret was really a holiday surprise for Tansy and Pippin and that the strange words were a decoy. Except on Tuesday, the people were still talking about moving furniture and saying things like "only one more week" and "it's kind of exciting."

Then, we thought we had cracked the secret when we saw the people ordering a new range on-line. We figured that they had decided to make sure Pippin couldn't burn the house down anymore. We were not sure how our herding instructor came into the picture, but thought that perhaps she had advised them on a reasonable option for us and our house and again assumed that the strange words were meant to lead us off the real trail.

Alas, we realized last night that we were mistaken and that the secret is still, well, secret. The people were talking about the range right in front of us and we heard them say that they were getting a new one because the old one is broken (that's why Pippin almost burned the house down). Then they said that it was coming on Monday--which is Dec. 4 and we know that the critical date is Dec. 9. Then, they asked Tansy how she was going to do with the changes.

This was quite perplexing to all of us and Tansy could shed no light on what they were talking about--although in her worry and concern, she did bark, bark, bark at Rafe all evening long--thinking that maybe he could tell her what was up.

Of course he couldn't as he is still recovering from losing his testicles and is kind of clueless on the whole secret thing anyway. He's the guy you want to call if you need some brute strength, but he's really not ready for true intelligence missions.

So, friends, we are left still searching for the answer. Whatever it is, it seems like something kind of big.

Pippin said to tell you that she'd post soon. She just has to wait for a point when that scary kitty is in the basement so that she can compose a proper message without having to watch her back.

Over and out
Lt. H.B. Moy

Things I'm thankful for

Yesterday, my people took Hamish and Rafe and were gone all day long. Our pet sitter came to play with us, and my favorite person in the entire universe, our neighbor Moni, came over too. But Tansy, Renzo, the kitties and I still missed our people. In the many hours I had to ponder, I came up with a list of things I'm thankful for and here they are

1. I'm thankful that my people decided that they wanted to see what it was like to train a border collie
2. I'm thankful that they got Tansy, since it meant another girl in the house AND that they decided to try sheep herding with us.
3. I'm thankful that my buddy Renzo was already here when I came to live with the people so that I didn't have to teach them everything myself
4. I'm thankful for my goofy little brother Hamish since he's my best playmate and friend
5. I'm thankful for Rafe because....well, right now I'll just be generous and be thankful that he's in the world
6. I'm thankful for the kitties because they make my people so happy
7. I'm thankful for all my fans and friends in the dog blogging community
8. I'm especially thankful to Opy and Charlie's people who do so much work for the dog blogging community and for Charlie for convincing me to keep blogging and for Opy for being an all around peach of a dog.
9. I'm thankful I haven't burned the house down or eaten anything that required surgery
10. I'm thankful for the sun when it comes out, for the snow when it falls, for the leaves when they turn colors and for the flowers when they bloom
11. I'm thankful that I get to learn flyball, agility and sheep herding and some tricks on the side
12. I'm thankful that the 2006 election is over so that the phone has stopped ringing with canned messages from candidates my people gruffed and complained about
13. I'm thankful for my walks, my toys and my good food
14. Most of all, I'm thankful for my people because they love me so much and I love them back just as hard.

Pippin the flyball dog

p.s. Update on efforts to determine the people's secret. We intercepted a phone call between the people and our herding instructor--it was hard to decipher, but we did learn that Dec. 9 is a key date. We have seen a piece of paper that seems to harbor important clues, but we haven't been able to steal it yet. Hamish is doing his best innocent, good boy impersonation to see if he can nab it. The people are talking a lot about crates and food.

I'm a good boy

From the desk of Hamish Braeburn Moy


I'm a curious kind of fellow and I wondered what it was that my person had in front of her face. She holds these silver things there sometimes and then there are noises and flashes. The people take some real delight at whatever happens after the flashes and noises.

I was very tired last night after hard work making sure I was successfully entertaining my demanding older sister Pippin and making sure that Rafe didn't steal my things. He's like that, you know.


Pippin said in her post that I'm undercover as a good boy. I'm here to tell you that I am in truth a good boy. A very good boy. I bark sometimes and jump up and I don't like to wait my turn in agility class and last week I pee'ed in the tunnel (but only because someone else pee'ed there first), but I am a very good boy. On Saturday I worked very hard with the sheep and it was only by the sheer magnitude of my speed and smarts that the stupid sheep didn't run into the fence and mangle themselves.

Our people have some secret going on. Tonight they were talking about which furniture to move around and they had a list with words on it that they were saying out loud and discussing. The words didn't make any sense to the rest of us. We are trying to get to the bottom of what's going on, but they are really holding their cards close to their chest. However, Pippin has her army mobilized and I'm confident we'll get to the bottom of it soon.

Sincerely,

H.B. Moy

Sunday night musings

Well, as you can see, that guest blogging thing that the other pups in my pack insisted on has not been a huge success (yet). One post from Rafe, the oaf-puppy (who my people have recently decided is very cute--I'll have to work on changing that--although truth be told, I kind of like him too), and one from my brother, Hamish (who demands to be called H.B. Moy as if he's a "professional")

There is far too much communing between kitties and pups at our house.


Up there, that's Tansy posterior to posterior with our new kitty, Fox








And there's Renzo actually sharing a bed with our fat kitty, Fritz

I think it might be time for some missions for both of them to get their minds back on the tasks involved in being a D.O.G. and not some mealy mouthed cat-lover.

The people remain too stupid to remember to keep tasty things out of their coat pockets and so I am still having to try and remind them through negative reinforcement, which involves clearing out the coat closet of all coats so that they have to put them all back up again. Whenever possible, I also chew a hole in the pockets so that they can really think about their mistakes. When they don't leave treats in their pockets, I give them kisses--positive reinforcement works, too. Of course, if I had opposable thumbs, I'd use a clicker.

As you can see, I brought several coats to our bedroom (but first I rolled around on the people's bed so that it looks a little more lived in and not so Martha. And it also helps reinforce the dominance hierarchy just in case they are confused.)

The real treasures I brought to my crate to carefully extract from the pockets (There's Hamish in his crate trying to look like a good boy--he's still in deep undercover)

We had herding practice yesterday. H.B. Moy (a.k.a. my goofy little brother Hamish) did really well as usual. He's so good at pretending to be a good boy and a suck-up that I forget sometimes that it was MY plan for him to go undercover like this so that he could be our secret weapon when we need him. At herding he outdid himself and ALL the people watching went on and on about how handsome he is, how good he is on the sheep, what a good team he and MY person are, how he's confident but not pushy, on and on and on. They didn't mention the fact that he melted down like a baby when he was supposed to move the sheep past the instructor and to my person. Something, I might add, I did with aplomb without melting down and crying for my mommy.

Tansy and the oaf-puppy also did very well--though the oaf-let is still slow as molassas and the people can't figure out why.

Today, Hamish and I went to flyball practice. Once I get the ball, I kind of mosey on back--double-stepping on some of the jumps. My person tends to think it's because I'm worried about where my feet are, but another person pointed out that it's probably because I have my ball, so what's the hurry to get back. I am truly coming to fear that my act as an unconfident pup may soon have to end as the people are getting wise....

The people watch way too much football (American-style) on TV and were kind of sad yesterday when the Michigan Wolverines lost to the Ohio State Buckeyes. All I know is that football often means frozen Kongs for us--except when it doesn't and that's when I hit the switch as I described in the Nov. 14 edition of my blog.

Finally, there is some big secret that my people have cooked up. I'm not sure what it is, but will let you know as I discover more.

Lesson for today
Some days are for pondering life's grand absurdities not for learning lessons

Yes, I'm still among the living

It would be nice, though, if my person let you, all my fans, know that I'm alive once in a while. I hate being beholden to the opposable thumbs. Hate it. I want to speak to those in charge immediately. (I've tried this approach before--it never works--but a girl can hope).

Anyway, I have to be quick since my person is "working" (uh-huh....), but I wanted to tell everyone about my new trick I learned on Sunday. See, one of my people had been gone for days and days--we never know where she goes, but all of a sudden she's gone. We still have the other person, of course, but we are kind of a lot for only one person--even when we are trying hard to be good and not annoying (cf. Meeshka's blog). See, we don't want to throw the people into complete hysteria and have them decide to have fewer of us, so we try to be accommodating when there is only one of them around. Plus, we were being especially careful since Rafe just came back from herding camp and, even though he annoys US, we do like having the extra paws available for our missions, so the rest of us work hard to keep him from annoying THEM.

All beside the point--except to say that when my person came home she was really tired and just wanted to watch some football on TV. So, there they were watching the Bears and the Giants (and rooting for the Giants since the Bears don't really seem like all that) when POOF, off went the TV--and all the other stuff connected to it.

Why? Because I figured out how to flip the switch on the little box that everything was plugged into. Cool trick, huh? You'd think it might have met with treats and praise, right? Perhaps a stuffed Kong for all my efforts. But no, they acted like it hadn't even happened--not so much as as a laugh or a "well done". And I thought humans were a species of culture and decorum.

Things moving back to normal

Although it's been a pretty sad couple of weeks without our good friend Macchio, the love kitty, around, I think that things are slowly shifting back to a state of normal. My people haven't been quite so sad and they've been playing a lot with us and the other kitties--even the naughty Fritz.

Yesterday one of the people came home from work early--the other is working at home these days and is mostly sitting in the big red chair in the living room with a computer on a lap desk. For hours at a time. Sometimes I worry that she might be dead, but then I see those weird toes the humans have tap-tap-tapping away at this rectangle with little boxes on it, so I know she's still alive.

Normally, coming home early from work means a big, cool walk for us in one of the parks you have to drive to. I got pretty excited at the prospect. But no. The people whisked themselves away and were gone for a long time. A very long time. Longer than is really quite conscionable on a Friday evening. It was at least 2 hours.

And look who they came home with.


They haven't named him yet (his name at the shelter was "Billy") and they're keeping him secluded in one of the studies. They let the rest of us smell stuff he's been sitting on and see him through the baby gate. Fritz has been pretty relentless trying to get in the room--there is, after all, full fat food in there and a litter box. So the people put up TWO baby gates and tied the door shut (there's no latch on it, so Fritz was just pushing it open). I don't know how long they'll keep him in there, but he looks like he might be fun, so I hope not too long.

Since a new kitty came home, I decided to call off the "dogs be good" routine. While the people were on the first round of walks this morning, I opened the closet door and took out all the coats. I left four of them in the hallway floor and brought the other four into the people's bedroom. There, I carefully extracted all cheese and treat residue from all the pockets. I had one of the coats in my crate, one on the bed and the other two on the floor. The people laughed when they came home, but cleaned it all up before they could get a picture. They think that will keep Hamish from getting any ideas.

So, anyway, we're off to herding lessons in a couple of hours. My people talked to the instructor yesterday and they decided to leave Rafe at her house for another week of herding camp. Par--tay.

Lesson for the day
There's nothing like a new kitty to raise the spirits in the house

p.s. My goofy little brother Hamish said to tell his fans that he's working on a video of him herding and will post it soon. I've graciously agreed to put in on my TV channel, but only if he agrees to cease and desist with any comments about my herding (and as a bonus, I promise not to tell how he freaked out like a little baby and practically hyperventilated when the people burned the pancakes this morning)

The sheep king (Guest Blog)

From the desk of Hamish Braeburn Moy, Esq. (in training)

My sister Pippin has been corresponding with all of you for some time. On occassion, I believe that she even mentions me, her handsome, perfect, younger (and did I mention handsome) brother. Today, she is allowing me to speak with my own voice. I am not certain what has transpired between her and the people, but the end result is that on this day you get to hear from me directly.

I also know from reading her correspondence with you that she has referred to me as "goofy." Rest assured, I have my legal team evaluating the degree of libel represented by this coupling of my name with such an adjective, but in the meantime, I also wanted to let you know, personally and from the heart, that I am anything but "goofy", as the image below most certainly attests.

In any case, the reason for today's letter is to let you know that despite what either Pippin or Rafe have to say, I am the undisputed sheep king. The instructor told me herself on Saturday (the rainy, muddy day) that I was the best. The fact that she said that Rafe was quickly catching up to me is immaterial.

I won't disrespect my elders by talking about Pippin's herding abilities. Our mother taught us that if you can't say something nice, you shouldn't say anything at all and that is a credo I try and live my life by. But, let the record show that I am the king of the sheep.

Most sincerely,
H.B. Moy

P.S. I understand that my sister Pippin is now a TV star. You can see her at Dogs with Blogs TV (if you look carefully, you can even see me in a spot or two)

(This message has been read, and after revision, approved by Pippin, the flyball dog)

Sheep = Wet + Muddy = BATH

Thanks to everyone's words of sympathy for the loss of our kitty. We are still very sad at our house, but we are soldiering on. Me and the gang have been extra nice to the people and haven't stolen any illicit items from the counters, left mud prints on the bed or barked too much (well, except for Tansy and Hamish--but they can't help it sometimes, so we don't count them). I don't know how much longer we can be so good, but for the people, we're giving it our best shot.

Yesterday was herding day. Yesterday was also a weather trifecta--cold, windy AND rainy. Today it's still cold and windy but it's completely sunny--not a cloud in the sky. What a difference that one component makes. But, I digress.

We went out to the sheep. There we were all snugged up in our crates in the rolling living room (a.k.a. the mini-van) when one by one we were pulled from the warmth into the elements to chase around those cloven-hooved creatures. Who, it must be said, are not all that excited about a wolf in their midst. But, that's not our problem now is it? Anyway, the instructor had laid out 40 bushels of pine shavings in the round pen. The round pen is for the babies and beginners. Not for us--even though we saw our people looking longingly at the pine shaving filled round pen as they slogged through the muddy sludge. Even the horse tried to follow us from the muddy sludge pen to the slightly less muddy sludge pen, but the people were too fast for him and he didn't get to come.

But, actually, we don't so much care about the mud--it makes us feel like real sheep dogs rather than "suburban wanna-bes"--that's what our instructor's dogs taunt us with (you see, they are real working sheep dogs, and not very kind since it's not OUR fault that our people live in the city and won't buy us any sheep no matter how much we beg and promise to feed and walk them every day).

So, we worked. When Tansy was working, it hailed and hailed, but still she and her person worked. Hamish worked. I worked (even though I think work is for the little dogs--not for a gentle pup like myself). We got VERY muddy. Rafe wasn't there since he's still at herding camp, but he works every day and we're pretty sure, he must also be muddy.

My tail was like a rat tail rather than its usual fluffiness. I must have gained three pounds in clinging mud alone. Because mud in this part of Michigan is really clay--you know, the stuff they bake into bricks and then build houses with. Plus, my person was really on my case as we worked, which meant that I had to lay in the mud a lot (when we herd, the people's way to slow us down or stop us while they blow their nose or whatever, is to say "lay down"--if they're feeling especially chuffed with themselves, they try to sound like a Scottish person and say "lay dune". Lots of the people do this with their dogs--we've heard it at herding trials. We dogs try very hard not to laugh and call them wanna-bes--we know how much that can hurt).

Anyway, that much mud and muck meant one thing for us once we returned to our suburban gulag--a bath. Tansy, Hamish and I were rather unceremoniously heaved one-by-one into the people's water tank and bathed. They were especially long baths since we were so muddy (as you can see in the picture of Tansy below--I was at least ten times as muddy as her since she didn't have to lay down as much as me).


So, then we had to sleep a lot since the sheep and the rain and the mud and the bath had worn us all out completely.

Lesson for the day
Working sheep is great but be aware that if you do it in the rain, it'll probably be mean a bath