Dogs----I Couldn't Live Without One

What is it about dogs? Some are nothing more than an unquestioning friend. Oh, I guess they are all that in some ways. Others go a bit farther and actually do things. Now, I could take our dog Chester first but while he is a great critter, he has limits.

Here we have Mist, I think we have Mist because he is not my dogs but Gary's and Carmen's, and Mist does real things like herd animals. For reasons unknown to me, but probably not to breeders, these dogs have to herd to feel right with the world. It is their life. While I could go to great length about this dogs prowess of hold and moving these sheep. I would rather relate a incident we experienced at a trial of sheep dogs.

We sat in the bleachers. We sat there with other folks interested in watching this activity and we sat there with other sheep herders who sat there with there dogs sitting there next to them. The dogs, unlike our Boarder Collie who would lay next to us, SAT on the bleachers watching the show. We could look down the line and here were all these collies and mutts watching the show and in some cases seeming to be a part of it, ot at least wanting to. The owners/companions were jabbering and laughing, paying little attention to the events on the arena but the dogs watched.

I do not know if they were admiring the work, judging it, or learning, but cared and given the word all of them would have headed for the floor. It was their life.

This dog is a pointer. This dog does hang by a warm fire and will fetch a ball in good suburban style but what he wants to do is point at birds. Oh, he will, I am told, point at other animals including a skunk, but he lives to mark the presence of birds.

He has an interesting ploy. We leisurely walk along a forest trail where in dwells the grouse, talking and telling anecdotes of hunts gone by. This dog, almost uninstructed, moves back and forth in front of us with his head held high, not to the ground like spaniel. He is hell bent of only a couple molecules of grouse and the minute he finds them he locks up, tail raised and one foot lifted in an elegant stance. There he will stay until we, noble hunters, step froward, our fouling pieces raised and release him to flush the bird. It is grand sport. The only thing we lacked was a single bird and appropriate knickers made of Scottish wool. Still had fun.

Then there is Chester, part Border Collie Part Spaniel. His life is good. He is mostly a friend and appears to have no genetics that render him useful beyond a companion of great affection. He hates water, will not fetch by hides the balls, couldn't smell a dead chicken, thinks cattle and goats are stupid, mindless brutes that need no handling. He doesn't even try to eat the fish I catch like his buddy Zoey who appears to love trout as a toy. We love Chester.