Me 'n "My" Dog

We have had Daisy about a year and a half now. She came to us as a six-year-old, third-hand, hand-me-down, because she entertained herself during her free time by killing poultry and because I was kind of, sort of, maybe, ready for another dog.

Nick, the last of the three collies had died. Mike, Nick, and Gael, they taught me so much and gave me so much, and needed me so much.......I had been dogless for several months for the first time since I was a tiny kid. She needed a home. I needed a low-maintenance dog.

So she came. Life had made her independent. Well that and the whole hound thing....As long as she was fed 1/3 can of Pedigree minced dog food twice a day, walked on occasion, and had a soft bed, that was it for her. Oh, and the baby. Babies are hers and must be protected. The boss can't even speak loudly to Peggy in fun, without a little red dervish barking up a storm and pouncing at his feet.

Grown up people, meh, she was all generic dog. You could pet her. She would accept it. But she loves to run away and has a real handle on the whole selective deafness thing. She very obviously thinks Alan is all that and a bucket of rice but.....but she could get along fine without even him. 

For all those 17 months she has simply been her own dog.....which has been fine with me. Serving as a mere doggie valet after so many years of the intense connection between Border Collies and their person left me okay with just being the can opener driver.

And then....just lately....she began coming when I call her....and with such joie de vivre. Well, except for the times when I have to get Becky to yell for her. Voice of authority or something..... But sometimes at least, the red ears are flapping in the wind generated by her delight when she runs to me. Happy, happy, happy. Could be the Pedigree, but she started meeting me at the kitchen gate each morning too. Once when someone left the gate open she even met me at the bottom of the stairs.

When no one is looking I pet her and roll her around and ruffle her nose and ears.

And she play bites and goes cracker dog through the kitchen, racing round and around me with her toy Dachshund clamped firmly in her tiny jaws.

Do you suppose? Could it be? Has she decided to be "my" dog?

Maybe. I guess we'll see.

Then again, she is awful happy to go off to chores with Liz and to get in the woodshed after rodents.....