I chose the newest family member to be
- col-lee-elliot-aging-graciously
- February 8, 2023
- 480
Last Saturday I chose the newest family member to be. In a wonderful farmhouse, filled with love of animals, I made that difficult choice. From among five fluffy, squirmy eyes barely open, legs only beginning to propel, mystical creatures, I found Willow, a 4-week-old Blue Merle female Standard Collie.
When you are choosing a pet who is hopefully going to spend the next 10 years or so with you, it is a lot harder if there is more than one choice. Those of you who know me know my devotion to animals, so, of course, I loved them all.
The daughters of the breeders had prepared them for their debuts on a quilt, cuddling and stroking them, talking about each, already socializing them. They had named each one. I asked if it were hard to give them up, and they said yes, but you have to get used to it. It’s hard to reconcile soft and cuddly with business. I am thankful for a reliable breeder who cares about his puppies.
I have waited nearly two years for this baby, who is my fifth Collie. Our first, Misty, was brought into the family because one of my sons had a bad experience with a big dog and was afraid of them.
Misty, a typical sable “Lassie” type, grew along with the kids, was gentle and loyal, and did the trick. We became avid Collie lovers. When she gave birth to 13 puppies, we kept Mollie, who unfortunately was taken from us early.
Life changed. Out on my own again, I found the tiniest apartment-sized dog, a 4-pound Yorkie, MacDuff. The yen for a Collie came back, and I brought home Andy, a beautiful tri-color male. Despite the fact Duffy lifted his leg on Andy the first time they met, the two became best buds. When they had left me, I decided to take a hiatus, but it only lasted six months.
A friend was raising Yorkies, and Tidbit fitted right into my life. It wasn’t long before I knew that little fellow needed a Collie, and MacKenzie was the one. Mac was a 100-pound Blue Merle gentleman with a huge rough that hung to the ground and the playful disposition of a small dog.
Mac and Bits were inseparable and thankfully were loving with the two resident cats, Doodah, a red-orange Manx, and Poe, a black Persian. The four moved to this area with me, in a station wagon driven cross country from California. They hunkered right in, my built-in family.
Ten years is a relatively long time in the life of pets. Over time the loss of those four was devastating to me. Enter Samson and Delilah, Yorkie brother and sister. And now it is just Sam and me — I getting up there in age and he, diabetic and blind, getting there too.
My kindly vet and many friends have tried to warn me that at my age I may have forgotten what it is to care for a puppy. Nope, I haven’t. I know about chewing and peeing and crying, training, hair, and muddy feet. But I also know about trusting eyes, warm companionship, cuddling and loyalty — unconditional love.
Would that the good dog angels introduce grumpy, lonely Sam to new companionship. I’ll throw in the rescue cat who really wants someone to play with and cross my fingers we live out as long a life together as is possible. It’s worth the try.