Lucky came to me first. I supervised a computer lab in a suburban high school. On the first day of school, Lucky bounded into my room with a large white shepherd mix in tow. He came right to me, sat for pets, gave me a big doggie smile and my heart said, “This is a goood dog!” The other dog turned out to belong to a neighbor who couldn’t seem to keep him home, but I never could find Lucky’s person.
He clearly came from a good home. At eight months, he’d been trained with kindness, was good around stock, and was a pretty solid dog. I knew he was a Border Collie, but I knew nothing about the breed. I called the hotlines of the shelters (this was before I knew about stray holds) and drove around most of the weekend, but never found who’d lost him. Someone lost a great dog, and I met one of my best friends.
At the time, I knew I was close to losing Myrddin, the gold-colored setter who had taken my life and my heart by storm some fifteen years earlier. I ended up having to put Myrddin down less than a month later. Lucky’s appearance was certainly well timed.
The second day of school, I locked Lucky in my large bathroom with another dog I’d rescued. At noon, I drove home to check on him. On the way back to school, I found a 12-week old white kitten sitting in the middle of the road. I was also unable to find his owners, and he soon went to a new home.
In the intervening week, Lucky and that kitten played a hilarious game, over and over. The kitten would huff out from under the living room chair, back arched, tail puffed, hopping sideways. Lucky would pounce and the kitten would scurry back into hiding, only to start the game over again. When the kitten’s new person walked away with him, Lucky followed the length of the living room windows. “Where are you going, new friend?”
My roommate, who was feeling a little overwhelmed at the number of dogs I was bringing home (I’d started sneaking them in and out. . .) soon said, “If you want to keep Lucky, I really like him.” Smart, beautiful and charming, Lucky won over a lot of people through his life.
A few months later, one of the kids came in. “Aspen, there’s another dog on the football field.” I’d been ‘rescuing’ dogs for the past few years, and had had perfect karma, always finding their homes after an afternoon of driving around the neighborhood. I was a little burned out, though, since many of them went back to inadequate homes. I got a note from the English teacher; her kids had nicknamed me “Aspen Ventura” after a Jim Carrey movie about a dog rescuer.
The cute little dog on the football field was a 30# spaniel mix who showed her impish personality that first afternoon, leading me on a chase across campus. If I called her, the tail went up and she ran the other direction. I started calling her “Little Girl” at once, and the name stuck.
I didn’t look for Little Girl’s people. She was covered with fleas, too thin and wearing two collars, both too large for her. She was also terrified of everything. I had to literally fight with her to get her in the car that first night. Although she soon learned that the car meant going to the park, it took her an entire year to meet my eyes.
Border Collies are herding dogs, originally bred on the cold, rough and rainy border between Scotland and Britain. They herd anything that moves. I don’t remember how the habit started, but Lucky soon took on the responsibility of keeping track of his little sister, the black sheep. I’d call her, she’d run the other direction, and he’d follow, either herding her back, or crouching and keeping an eye on her.
I’d say, “Where’s your sister?” and he’d go find her. One memorable evening, about dusk, we were in a wooded park where the two of them loved to chase squirrels. I’d called and called, and couldn’t find Little Girl anywhere. I looked at Lucky and commented, “You know, I’m about ready to go home and eat dinner. What about you?”
I guess he was hungry. Turns out Little Girl was about 20 feet away, staring up a tree. Lucky collected her, herded her back to the car and held her there until I caught up. That’s a Border Collie for you; I can’t count how many times I’ve talked to Lucky or Stevie (the BC I live with now) and had them understand me perfectly. In addition, Lucky often picked up on my emotions. Even after he went to live with Kelly, his rescue mom, there were several instances where we seemed to pick up on each other’s feelings.
In those early days, we had access to a wonderful beach house on Washington’s Pacific coast, and at least a couple of times a year, I’d pack up the whole crew (which also included an opinionated cat) and drive out to the beach.
I don’t know what they’re called, but there are seabirds that fly in formation along the edge of the surf. Lucky loved to herd them, and in those days, he could run and run. Little Girl had no herding instinct to speak of, but she would cooperate with him and help herd the birds.
They were best buddies. Lucky herded her outside, but inside, Little Girl owned the bed, and kept the very soft Lucky off it. I always wanted him to sleep with me (Little Girl slept under the covers, even in the summer), but inside, he was terrified of Little Girl, the alpha brat. I remember one night, I woke up and realized there were two dogs on the bed. As soon as I woke, Lucky got up and left, but I wondered how many times over the years he snuck onto the bed to lay full length against my back.
A friend once told me, “Myrddin wanted to be taken care of; Lucky is here to take care of you.” He always had my back.
Little Girl was a mighty hunter. I often wondered what she had in her besides spaniel. She seemed drawn to beagles, and had quite the vocabulary of corrgels, hoots, hollers, bays, growls, yips and yaps. She proved this one night when I went to bed and heard her and Lucky hunting in the house. That little dog was sure having a good time; she ran through every sound I’ve ever heard from a dog, and then some. I got up later and found that they’d killed one of the biggest rats I’d ever seen.
Stevie doesn’t hunt, but Lucky learned from Little Girl and they often cooperated. I had to fence off a rockery in my yard because Little Girl would spend hours harassing the garter snakes that lived there. I’d look out the window and see some poor snake Essing across the yard, both dogs in pursuit.
The first time we lived in my car, we didn’t find a place to live until November. The truck got cold at night, and I went to the thrift store and bought both dogs fleece coats. For Lucky, I got a dignified blue and red plaid vest. Little Girl received a child’s red, hooded jacket with an appliquéd Mickey Mouse on the chest. Lucky was quite insulted; I ended up buying him an expensive and warm dog coat. Little Girl, always one to work the cute factor, loved her coat and wore it often to the dog park.
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