A border collie never takes a day off. Ever. She’s a working dog and has to perform some type of labor daily – not just once but at least twice and preferably much more than that. Some collie owners don’t realize this fact, and unfortunately sometimes the dog and owner become frustrated with each other. Some collie rescue organizations actually have several sheep for the dogs to herd. My sister says Stormy, our border collie, should go to work every morning with her red kerchief around her neck and a lunch bucket with a milk bone in it.
Storm has us trained to play Frisbee (or if it’s windy out, ball) twice a day. Morning and late afternoon. She begins to lobby for it the minute we wake up and again at around 3 p.m. The people schedule is about a half hour after we rise in the morning and then again at 4 in the afternoon. Even if we play with her at Noon (sometimes we sleep in), she still begins whining for her play time at 3, an hour before the scheduled event is supposed to actually occur.
This morning the temperature was 12 degrees. That’s right, 12 degrees. Quite cold for human flesh, but apparently not so for border collies. I got up at a decent time (6:40 a.m.), did my usual stint on the treadmill, and paid some bills on the computer during which Stormy whined, groaned, rolled around on the carpet next to my chair, and then just stared at me with those pleading, brown eyes of hers.
Of course, reasoning with her was out of the question. “It’s cold out, Storm. Can’t you at least wait until it warms up a bit?” Nope, she was not to be deterred.
So, I put on my 10-year-old winter coat from Cabella’s, donned some gloves, took a peek at Orie, the mini dachsie, who was ensconced in the living room chair with pillows and blankets all around and over him. Obviously he wasn’t going anywhere soon. Meanwhile, Storm was prancing around me, trying not to bark because her dad was still sleeping, but finally she gave in and let out a huge, “Hurry up, Mom, I gotta play!!”
I shushed her, but that just makes her bark louder.
Finally, we began playing Frisbee in the snow and cold; me, all bundled up shivering as though I had nothing on; her, dashing back and forth, lunging for the Frisbee, jumping high, circling the barn, huffing and puffing with all the energy of a steam engine. Her black, furry face was covered with snow except for the dark slits of her beady eyes.
I could stand no more of the freezing cold; so I motioned toward the house, our signal for her to stop playing and go in. She stopped in her tracks, Frisbee dangling from her mouth, and stared at me in shock. “Now? You want to go in now?! We just got started.”
I ignored her and kept walking towards the house. In defiance, she dropped the Frisbee and trotted up to join me on the deck.
“Storm, get your Frisbee.”
No answer; just a gentle wave of her tail. I had the choice of leaving the Frisbee lying in the snow to be covered up with more snow so we wouldn’t find it until Spring. Or, I could trudge back down the steps through the snow and get the Frisbee myself. Punishment for curtailing the work/play too early.
With resignation I sighed and went back down the steps to get the Frisbee. The moment I reached for the green disc lying in the snow, Storm slid up to it, grabbed the Frisbee out of my hand and trotted back to the house with it. Her morning work was done.
Storm has us trained to play Frisbee (or if it’s windy out, ball) twice a day. Morning and late afternoon. She begins to lobby for it the minute we wake up and again at around 3 p.m. The people schedule is about a half hour after we rise in the morning and then again at 4 in the afternoon. Even if we play with her at Noon (sometimes we sleep in), she still begins whining for her play time at 3, an hour before the scheduled event is supposed to actually occur.
This morning the temperature was 12 degrees. That’s right, 12 degrees. Quite cold for human flesh, but apparently not so for border collies. I got up at a decent time (6:40 a.m.), did my usual stint on the treadmill, and paid some bills on the computer during which Stormy whined, groaned, rolled around on the carpet next to my chair, and then just stared at me with those pleading, brown eyes of hers.
Of course, reasoning with her was out of the question. “It’s cold out, Storm. Can’t you at least wait until it warms up a bit?” Nope, she was not to be deterred.
So, I put on my 10-year-old winter coat from Cabella’s, donned some gloves, took a peek at Orie, the mini dachsie, who was ensconced in the living room chair with pillows and blankets all around and over him. Obviously he wasn’t going anywhere soon. Meanwhile, Storm was prancing around me, trying not to bark because her dad was still sleeping, but finally she gave in and let out a huge, “Hurry up, Mom, I gotta play!!”
I shushed her, but that just makes her bark louder.
Finally, we began playing Frisbee in the snow and cold; me, all bundled up shivering as though I had nothing on; her, dashing back and forth, lunging for the Frisbee, jumping high, circling the barn, huffing and puffing with all the energy of a steam engine. Her black, furry face was covered with snow except for the dark slits of her beady eyes.
I could stand no more of the freezing cold; so I motioned toward the house, our signal for her to stop playing and go in. She stopped in her tracks, Frisbee dangling from her mouth, and stared at me in shock. “Now? You want to go in now?! We just got started.”
I ignored her and kept walking towards the house. In defiance, she dropped the Frisbee and trotted up to join me on the deck.
“Storm, get your Frisbee.”
No answer; just a gentle wave of her tail. I had the choice of leaving the Frisbee lying in the snow to be covered up with more snow so we wouldn’t find it until Spring. Or, I could trudge back down the steps through the snow and get the Frisbee myself. Punishment for curtailing the work/play too early.
With resignation I sighed and went back down the steps to get the Frisbee. The moment I reached for the green disc lying in the snow, Storm slid up to it, grabbed the Frisbee out of my hand and trotted back to the house with it. Her morning work was done.
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