Changes: endings, and beginnings

With the loss of Bob the Guardian Dog, we have a bit of a gap in our Outdoor Protective Services Department. Mackenzie can handle things on his own, I’m sure, but guardians do best in a team, and we don’t really want to get a second full time LGD just now – we have very few sheep, the chickens are penned, and the cow can pretty much take care of herself. Still, we need a guardian – and if something happens to Mackenzie, we need to have a bit of time to fill the gap and not be caught with no outside coverage.

Enter Caleb. Caleb is awfully big for an inside dog – we didn’t expect him to get quite so large (even the vet was surprised at how big he grew). He is about the size of your average Lab, with a fluffier tail (which knocks things over regularly) and all the energy of a lab and a collie. Fortunately, he is very well behaved and easy to train … but he needs a bit more time to run than he’s been getting. Caleb is going to move to being a mostly-outside dog, now, and serve as backup for Mackenzie. His body and fur are enough to handle the weather, and we won’t have him outdoors full time until summer, as he’s just not adapted for the cold yet. Still, he’s been spending more and more time outside: he likes to sit on top of the hay bales and survey the world from up there, or sit on the front deck and watch things happen, or chase the magpies or the deer when they show up. Of course he still gets lots of attention from The People and we are taking it slowly, but I think he will do okay.

This, of course, leaves us with a gap in our Indoor Protective Services Department. I can’t really relax without a dog in the house – I need someone with better hearing to let me know if someone comes down the road, and to confirm my sense that everything is safe (because the dog is just lying there, quietly, not barking or worrying). None of us are particularly comfortable without a dog inside anymore – it just seems wrong, somehow. Yes, the outside dogs will generally let us know if something is going on, but they don’t always – if it’s been a long night and they are fast asleep mid afternoon, sometimes they don’t bark at a vehicle that arrives. We need to know when that happens!

Plus, dogs are comforting. Caleb has eased my fears and sorrows many times. If he is outside more, we will need someone to fill in the gap.

Enter Ben.

Ben was born September 2012, so he is a year and a bit … he’s a Shi Tzu Poodle cross, and he is little and cute (his head comes up to the seat of a kitchen chair, and he can curl up underneath one). He lived in a condo and barked whenever someone came to the door of the building, which was troublesome in those close quarters, but barking when people come by is a feature in our rural household! (Never mind the fact that his tiny wee little bark seems like nothing compared to the giant huge bellowing woofs we are accustomed to from the LGDs.)

Ben’s still a little shell-shocked from the change, but he is perking up quite a bit now that he’s been here for a couple of days. We picked him up Monday evening, and he was very growly and scared, though not at all aggressive … just letting everyone know he was NOT comfortable with these new people! He’d been wearing a shock collar to stop his barking, and would just bark through the pain as he really needed to let everyone know he heard someone. Unfortunately, that ongoing pain and some less-than-optimal socialization had made him a bit shy around new people. If you bark because someone is at the door, and you get zapped, and someone comes inside and you bark more and get zapped again, you are going to decide that new people bring pain. It’ll take a little while to learn that it wasn’t the new people, it was that darned collar gadget … which came off the minute he got home, and won’t ever go back on.

His barking habits and fear of new people didn’t seem like a deal-breaker to me, though: yes, he was growly and unhappy, but he wasn’t mean or aggressive. Within a few minutes of meeting him he let me touch him, roll him on his back, put my hands in his mouth, no resistance at all. We can work on his fear – goodness, if there’s anything this household understands it is living with someone who faces a lot of fear! The key with dogs like this is to just give them time to warm up and let them decide when they are ready to meet all the people, to convince them that we are the Bringers of All Good Things and to help them build their confidence so that they are more resilient to changes in the environment. We are unlikely to ever have a lot of new people traffic in our house, so if he’s always a little shy around strangers that won’t be a big problem in our world anyway. And as he’s still a ‘teenager’ in dog years, I think he can be healed of his fear without too much trouble.

So Ben joined us on Monday – he has slept quietly through the nights (an advantage of getting an older dog rather than a puppy!) and this evening, he and Caleb have been racing each other around the kitchen table, wrestling and generally creating chaos in the house as they play and act silly. It’s wonderful. Ben’s still a bit shy … he spends a lot of time hiding under the kitchen chair I’m sitting in, but he’s getting braver by the minute. Hawkbait the cat is still VERY uncertain about this new creature and hisses and snarls and tries hard to sneak past him without being noticed, Oreo is a little less upset but still keeping her distance, while Caleb is all excited that we brought him a playmate!

We expect that within the next week or so, Ben will find himself more comfortable being here and stop with the fearful growly noises – that’s perfect timing as The Reluctant Farmer comes home next Friday, and the Small People will be here then. I am confident that we can help Ben to find his inner strength and help him to see that the world is not a scary place where random zaps of electricity hit him and people are angry because he tells them when things are happening in the world. We’ll work some more on basic obedience (he knows ‘sit’, sorta, but ‘down’ and ‘stay’ and ‘come’ are long forgotten since his puppy obedience classes). We’ll help him to know what’s expected of him, tell him when he’s done a great job, correct him gently but clearly when he makes a mistake, and give him a job to do and people to love and friends to play with (oh, goodness, if he can help Caleb burn off some of that excess energy,then everyone will be happy!).

This morning, I left him behind for a few minutes while I went to do something else. When I came back, this is what greeted me:

Yeah, I think he’s gonna be okay.

And seeing him play with Caleb tonight eased my heart somewhat from the sorrow of missing Bob. I would rather have had things just stay as they were … but life is change, and so here we are.

Welcome to your new life, Ben. I’m sure we can find our way together.

We love you, Bob. Thank you for everything.

Bob’s passing was peaceful and gentle, on a pile of hay next to the sheep feeder while the sheep and cows ate their lunch. Mack was in the pasture with the animals, Caleb and a cat were right nearby, and The Boy and I were with Bob as he went to sleep for the last time. Dr Sarah is very kind and gentle, and there was no hurry or fuss … just loving hands to ease him on his journey.

I miss him terribly already, but it was time. As we sat with him before the vet came, I saw that look in his eyes, the one that says “It’s okay, I can be done now.”

You can rest from your long labours, now, Bob. Thank you for everything. We love you so much.

Farwell to Bob the Dog

Bob the Dog, our beloved livestock guardian, has had a recurrence of the cancer we treated last spring in his neck.

We had hoped he’d outlive the cancer, but sadly, it was not to be. I had noticed a couple of weeks ago that the little lump of scar tissue where he’d had the tumour removed felt a little bigger, but I wasn’t quite sure. Then, on New Year’s Eve, he came to the door to say hi and I went out to give him a hug and I checked, like I always do.

The lump was the size of an egg.

I called our lovely vet, Dr Sarah, and left a message that we’d need to make arrangements to help Bob cross the Rainbow Bridge before the tumour could cause him more discomfort. Given the rate of growth, Dr Sarah said maybe a week, ten days at the outside … and so on Wednesday this coming week, Bob will go to sleep for the last time, here at home, near his sheep and his people and his pack. It is the last kindness we can give him, and his years of service have earned a comfortable, peaceful end, at home in familiar surroundings.

The livestock guardians do not travel well. They fight being loaded into a vehicle. They are terribly uncomfortable inside a building. We won’t make Bob’s last moments a trial for him … the vet will come here, and we will put a blanket on the ground by the hay bales up near the sheep, and hug him and hold his head and his paws while he breathes his last. It’ll be very, very sad … but it’ll be okay.

Bob’s been suffering from the cold this year in ways I’ve never seen before, and I’m thinking it must be related to his illness. The other day he was by the door shivering, his teeth were actually chattering in the cold. I grabbed his collar and dragged him up the steps and inside, which he was not too pleased about, but when I served him a bowl of heated Dog Food Soup (with bacon grease, yum!) he was much more okay with the whole thing. He wandered around, wagging his tail, coming over for hugs and pats, and stayed until he was good and warm. Then he stood by the door again until I let him out, and he bounded off to see the sheep.

He’s still his old happy self … although tonight when we came home, I thought I detected a bit of sorrow about him, a bit of heaviness. Maybe he knows he isn’t well. Only two more days, and the tumour is still beneath the skin, though it has hardened and is definitely still growing, I think the timing will be all right.

We will miss him very, very much. He’s been a good dog. He guards the sheep, licks the lambs clean when they are born, and is good to the people. Once, when Smaller Boy was still very small, he had an egg to give to Bob, one that had cracked in the coop and couldn’t be used in the kitchen. The little boy held out his little hand with the egg in his palm and said “here, Bob.” Bob put his giant mouth right over the boy’s whole hand … egg, hand, wrist, everything … gently slid the egg off and left the hand untouched. Eyes huge, that small boy was amazed at this giant dog having just about swallowed his arm! More than once, when I have been overwrought with trauma memories or emotional upheaval, I have gone to sit on the stairs and cry out my anger and frustration and fear … and Bob has come to lick the tears from my face and shove his head into my lap and comfort me.

He is a fantastic dog. We love him very much. We love him so much, that we will let him go in peace. I will cry big tears, but it will be all right. It is the way of things for dogs to go before us, sadly … but it is worth the pain, for all the love and joy they bring us.

My Gram said that she was certain there would be dogs in heaven. It is easy to think of her waiting there at the pearly gates with Ebony, the little black cocker spaniel who loved Gram so much and guarded her as her mind failed with the brain tumour that took her life … and with Dax, the Akita who loved me through the loss of my daughter Jessica, and with Duggan, the goofy beagle who rehomed himself to love an old lady through her last days.

Bob will go to join them this week, and I expect that some fine day, in that place where there are no more tears at all, I will sit on a golden step and Bob will lay his head in my lap and tell me how happy is to have me home.

We love you, Bobby. Thank you for everything.

And good news for Bob the Dog

We received good news from the vet today: the biopsy on the tumour removed from Bob's neck shows that it was the sort that is likely to be only locally invasive, not intensely metastatic. It may recur, but at his age, he's likely to outlive the cancer and as far as we're concerned, that makes it a good outcome. We'll just watch for any new lumps, and if they show up we'll know it's time for Bob’s last watch, before the new tumour can grow to an uncomfortable size.

At almost 11 years old, Bob probably has another 2-3 years of good life and guardian work in him and we're glad to have him on duty again!

Bob the Dog is on the mend

Bob’s surgery went well today!

The vet said that his body was already starting to reject the tumour growth, shoving it outwards. Nicely encapsulated on the underside, easy to get out, and he is now lump-free. A sample has been sent off to a lab for tests to fully identify what it is, mostly so that if we end up seeing something similar in a little while, we’ll know for sure what we are dealing with and can take appropriate action. But, he’s home, he’s slightly stoned and a bit woozy still, but he’s home and seems quite content.

Yay Bobbie! Yay Dr Sarah and team!

Hmm, that’s not good.

Well, my day didn’t go as planned. Not at all.

Went out to do morning chores and saw that Bob the Dog (the other guardian, not Mackenzie, who’s the one that got bitten by a something a little while ago) had a big lump on his neck. It wasn’t there last week, and it’s HUGE. Maybe an abscess, I figure, those happen regularly enough if the animals get into something poky and then it gets encapsulated … messy, but I can deal with that. So I get all my gear out to do just that and … yeah, what’s under all that muck is NOT what I was expecting. Whatever it is, it’s clearly beyond my skill set, so off we go to the vet. Plus I had to deliver the Small People to their mom today, as it is the Princess Girls’ birthday party (she’s 9) today.

This means we drive north and drop the dog off at the vet, then west to deliver the kids to town, pause to call the vet, yup, he’s ready, go back for the dog on the way home.

It’s not an abscess, it’s a tumour. It grew so fast it outgrew the blood supply and got an infection – I was sure there was an infection of some kind, because it smelled wrong. Anyway, Bob’s on antibiotics now and will have the tumour removed next week - he’s an old dog (almost 11 is old for an outside guardian) but the initial exam suggests it’s the kind of tumour that’s probably well localized, and he should “outlive the cancer” as my vet put it. Which is good, because it’s not cheap to have a big dog go for surgery. Still, Bob’s worked hard and protected the sheep and he’s earned his pension and his pay. He got a dish of meat (pressure canned actual MEAT) when he got home, and he’s out there now with a stupid looking bandage around his neck because the nasty thing wouldn’t stop bleeding after being poked and prodded and biopsied. Fortunately Bob was quite cooperative about it all. But good grief, the poor puppy has a lump almost the size of my fist sticking out of his neck, yuk!

Fingers are crossed that it’s not the kind that will have metastisized, though he’s earned palliative care regardless and getting this taken off would be a comfort measure either way, so … there we have it. My vet’s pretty optimistic though, so we are too.

Now, I had planned to do a bunch of weaving today – I have an art show in less than a month and nothing to show, so I have to get up to the loom!

Night Shift

Bob and Mackenzie, the guardian dogs, work nights. They bark to let the coyotes know that this is their turf, and not to bother coming for a snack from their flock. We know the difference between the “two o’clock and all’s well” bark and the “hey, you, GET!” bark of active chase. Generally, we sleep through the barking unless there’s something really interesting going on out there. It’s nice to hear their voices letting us know that they are on duty and that nothing bad has happened outside.

During the day, Mac will usually take up a position somewhere on a hill where he can see the sheep (he seems to doze with one eye open), but Bob, the senior dog, will often go somewhere a bit further off for a good nap.

Today he curled up in a hole Mac had dug by the house (Mac has, in the past, excavated holes large enough for the cow to lie down in).

I love my dogs. They are so cool.

Sometimes, things just move slowly

This year, lots of things seem to be moving very slowly. The garden is taking ages to get up and running – things don’t want to sprout (except the weeds, they do fine), and the stuff that does come up grows in itty bitty fits and starts.

The lambs are getting bigger, but Icelandics are slower growing than the Columbia/Hamps we had before, so it looks like they aren’t growing at a good pace (even though they are fine).

The knitting projects are coming along, but I spend so little time actually with needles in hand, that there’s not a lot of progress (go figure). I did get a good chunk of knitting time in today – I needed a day of peace and quiet, The Boy needed money, so I paid him to do the jobs around the house I would’ve done otherwise. He was happy, I was happy, knitting was accomplished. Yay.

The chickens are hiding their eggs, so egg production appears to have slowed – which is not, of course, the real problem (there is no way that the number of hens we have laid only 5 eggs in one day) … but where are they hiding them? Haven’t found them yet … I put a bounty on the nest, maybe that’ll encourage more searching among the younger members of the household. :)

Mackenzie’s wounds are healing slowly – but his condition is improving noticeably. He’s on the doggie version of Keflex, which knocked me on my backside the last time I had to take it, and may explain why he is so tired and lethargic (I could barely walk from one end of the house to the other without needing to sit down and rest, and that was after the infection was under control and all I was dealing with were the drug effects). Mac’s wounded skin is looking healthier by the day, though, lethargy aside – I believe the intensive treatment with steroid/antibioitic cream (the first day) followed by calendula/plantain ointment several times a day for the next four days helped get things off on the right track, and all the resting he’s been doing has surely allowed his body to put all effort towards healing. I’m fairly sure the mudbath Mac gave himself on the second day (when he worked up enough gumption to chew through is leash and go walkabout) did not help matters, but he probably thinks that’s the secret to his healing. Hmphm.

Ah, another thundershower has arrived. Thanks for watering the garden, God, I didn’t get to that today. Appreciate the help!

Do you have a dog with lots of fur who spends time outside? Had wet weather?

If you this sounds familiar … please do yourself and your dog a favour.

Check through his coat. Just … go look. Really, it’s a good idea.

See, I have a dog with lots of fur: Mackenzie, the Great Pyr. Mackie is a livestock guardian dog, so he spends all of his time outside. He lives with the sheep: they are his pack, he loves them and he protects them. He spends all his time with them. Buildings freak him out – usually, he won’t even go in the barn – he’d rather be with his sheep.

And, we’ve had lots of rain. Days of rain, then hot humid dampness, then more rain. This much humidity is really unusual here – I had noticed the humidity because the herbs I hung up to dry seemed way too soggy for the amount of time they’d been hanging. And, of course, my hair is out of control with frizziness. However, I still hadn’t put two and two together.

You see, when you have lots of rain and then some warm days and then some more rain, those outside dogs with lots of fur don’t really get a chance to dry out completely. This is especially true if, like our Mac, they are in the process of blowing off a winter coat and have patches of thickly matted fur that hasn’t quite worked it’s way loose yet.

What happens then is that the flies arrive. The flies see this nice warm damp spot and …

I’ll spare you the details. It’s horrible. It’ll give you nightmares. Everything that brushes against your skin will make you squeal like a teenage girl at a horror movie. And that won’t be an overreaction.

Mackenzie is now in the barn, willingly (which shows you how sick he feels), with the worst haircut you can imagine and huge patches of raw, sore, damaged skin. Home made salve (olive oil, calendula, mullein and beeswax) plus oral antibiotics and topical steroid/antifungal/antibacterial ointment (courtesy of my fabulous vet, who will provide me with medication and guidance based on a phone conversation, rather than requiring us to transport a 125 lb dog who panics when he is confined or forced to walk into a building) are easing his pain and helping him on the road to healing.

So, yeah: today’s message is check under the fur.

If the worst you find is dirt and guck and maybe leftover bits of grass … be grateful. If you find something worse … well, at least you found it and can treat the problem.

Sleep well. :)

Open Adoption ... for a beagle

We went to visit Duggan at his new home on Saturday ... he is livin' the life of luxury! He's allowed on the couch, he has his own cushion on the floor, and his water bowl is beautiful blue pottery ... quite the step up from an old ice cream bucket. :)

When we walked in, he came right up and said hello like any polite dog ... and then he recognized us! He was wagging his tail and inhaling our familiar scents and was clearly very happy to see us. His new people said he hasn't greeted anyone else like that! Duggan spent a few minutes saying hi to all of us, and then as we moved into the house for a cup of coffee, he just meandered about, being his usual calm self. I called him by his old name and his head came right up and he came over to me - but apparently when his new family called "Duggan!" he ignored them. Apparently he knows which voices go with each of his names. :)

Duggan's new family are wonderful people, and clearly love having him in their home. They live in a beautifully renovated farm house and have a couple of horses and a lovely property. He is definitely looking older, but he seems to be in really good condition. The vet's still investigating a few things, but it seems like he's doing well for an older beagle.

There are just so many 'near misses' it's amazing - Duggan's Person (Miss Ruby) was hospitalized in the same hospital we took Dinosaur Boy to for his IV treatments, and Duggan would have been there visiting her at the same time we were there. And, the people who initially found and hosted him (and put up the signs that they'd found a beagle) are the family that we get grass fed beef from ... but we only started dealing with them recently, so it was long past the time Duggan had gone to his new home. Clearly he was where he needed to be. The Reluctant Farmer said, "I always told him he needed to get a job ... and so that's what he did. That's the first time he listened to me!"

We have a great 'open adoption' arrangement with the new family ... they'll keep us updated on Duggan's doings, and we are welcome to go and visit him at their home. What a wonderful happy ending for everyone.

Miss Ruby's Dog

Miss Ruby was getting on in years. She lived by herself, and decided that a beagle puppy would be the just the right companion for her. Having come to this conclusion, Miss Ruby discussed the matter with her friend Evelyn, who helped Miss Ruby by driving her to appointments and such. Together they set up a meeting with a beagle breeder to investigate the purchase of a puppy for Miss Ruby.

Shortly after this momentous decision, Evelyn saw a poster with a picture of a beagle dog that had been found nearby. A phone call revealed that the dog had been around for about a week, no one had claimed him, and he was in need of a new home. Well, this was a perfect opportunity for Miss Ruby. She wanted a beagle, and here was one practically on her doorstep in need of a place to live!

Miss Ruby had picked out a name for her new beagle pup before she even met him: Obama. Evelyn transported the lost beagle from his temporary home to Miss Ruby's house, and he settled right in, happy to have someone to love who loved him in return. Miss Ruby figured that Obama was an angel sent to keep her company.

As summer turned to fall and fall turned to winter, Miss Ruby became more and more unwell. Eventually, she had to leave her home and go into the hospital for what was likely to be the last time. Evelyn took Obama home with her, and together they visited Miss Ruby at the hospital almost every day. The patients were happy to see this cheerful beagle trotting down the corridors, and the nurses loved him so much that they'd even allow him to stay with Miss Ruby while Evelyn ran out to do a few errands.

At the end of January, Miss Ruby passed away. Evelyn decided that she wanted to continue the work she and Obama had begun, visiting patients at the hospital, by having Obama certified as a pet therapy dog. The first step was a thorough vet check, so Evelyn located a vet she'd used before for her horses and took Obama in for a visit.

In the course of his phyiscal exam, the vet discovered that Obama was healthy, with clean ears, a decent weight (for an older beagle), and ... that he had a microchip embedded. He was someone's lost pet, not just an abandoned dog. Evelyn was heartbroken ... if Obama had a family that loved and missed him, he'd need to go back and their time together would be at an end.

The vet took Evelyn's contact information and headed to her office to make a phone call.

And my phone rang.

Obama the beagle is Duggan, and the vet is my own vet, who knew that Duggan had disappeared last Canada Day and that all our efforts to locate him had been fruitless. She told me how Duggan had been found several kilometers west of our house and adopted by an older lady who had adored him until her passing last month, and how the lady's friend had inherited him and had brought him to the clinic as the first step twoards having him certified as a therapy dog. Doctor Vet said Duggan was clearly very much loved in his new home ... and that the people were heartbroken at the thought of having to send him back.

Well, there was just no question what to do. If Doctor Vet says that the people have been taking good care of him and obviously love him, well, I know it's true. If Duggan can have a career as a therapy dog, sharing his happiness with people who need the comfort and joy that an open-hearted beagle has to offer, then he should have a chance to do the work he's so well suited for.

We couldn't possibly want anything more for Duggan than to know that he is well loved and enjoying his life, and even more, to know that his life enriches the lives of so many others.

I phoned Evelyn and heard the whole story from her. She says she can't think now why she didn't check for a microchip right at the start. I think she just wasn't meant to: Miss Ruby needed Duggan, and it was his job to be there for her. We loved him and missed him, but he was needed where he was. Now that his job with Miss Ruby has ended and his new career is about to begin, it's the perfect time for us to find out that he's alive and well ... and only a few kilometers away, living with people who are good to him, who love him, and who want to give him a career helping people in need of a dog's unconditional love.

Duggan's new family have invited us to come and visit, and we can't wait to see him in his new home and meet these wonderful people. Their generous hearts had room not only for Miss Ruby when she needed them, but also for Duggan, when he lost Miss Ruby.

We were so sure that Duggan had met his end. To find out that all this time he's been bringing happiness and comfort to people who need it so much, and that he is just around the corner with such kind people is just more wonderful than any of us could have hoped for.

(In keeping with our custom, all of the human's names have been changed.)

Caleb

The new puppy finally told us his name: he is Caleb.

Caleb means 'devoted companion', according to some of the baby name lists I have seen. Caleb was the guy who helped Moses during the Exodus, along with Aaron and Joshua. Our Caleb seems to be the calm level headed sort (well, for a puppy...) and the name just seems to fit.

Besides, when you holler it across the pasture it's got good enunciation and doesn't sound at all like Bob or Mac. :)

He's adapting quite well to our routines - he plays like mad then crashes and sleeps ... and then he's up and at it again. He is not at all food-insane like so many dogs, he is friendly to absolutely everyone, and he is really interested in all the animals but hasn't chased any of them yet. He has an understandable desire to play with any wool I leave lying around, which we are working on ... but really, he is about as good and calm a puppy as one could hope for.

He is figuring out the potty training thing, adapting quite well to the crate, given how little time he actually has to spend in it, and overall, fitting in nicely. We are glad we have him. :)

A farm dog

At some point working with livestock, you start to realize that a lot of things might be easier with a four footed helper. We have friends whose dog can be sent out to round up the horses and bring them in, and have watched dogs keep sheep from going through gates at a word from their owners. I've seen dogs follow their people around, just happy to be with them, and happy to do as they are asked when a job shows up for them to do.

Now, a dog like that takes a lot of training and work and love. But then, you get a lot of love and companionship in return, as well as the practical help.

Since Duggan went over the Rainbow Bridge, we've been missing an inside dog. Well, okay, some of us have been missing an inside dog ... The Reluctant Farmer is pretty reluctant to have dog hair in the house again, and I can see his point. But, The Reluctant Farmer is also pretty reluctant to spend any more time than necessary chasing stubborn livestock, so, he's been convinced that a farm dog would be a good thing for us.

Besides, as much as we love Bob and Mac, a dog that lives in the house and plays with the kids (without knocking them over inadvertently) is something we'd all really enjoy.

So ... I started looking. We wanted a dog with one of the herding breeds as part of it's genetic makeup but balanced with something a little more laid back, in an effort to reduce the intense herding need that some working dogs have.

Today, we found him.

This is our as-yet-unnamed 8 week old puppy. He is half lab, one quarter border collie and one quarter heeler. His mother is the collie/heeler and very friendly. The puppy has been very well taught by his littermates and previous owners not to nip and seems very quiet and happy.

He cried for about a minute and a half when I put him in the crate to drive home ... then quit and went to sleep. Once we got home, he wagged his tail at everyone, wandered around the house, followed us, sat on our laps, snoozed with The Reluctant Farmer for a bit, and managed to go to the bathroom outside!

He is, understandably, pretty wrung out with all the changes. He is tucked into a crate at the moment and resting fairly quietly. He cried for several minutes when we put him in, but we moved the crate so he can see us and he seems to have relaxed. Of course, it is all very stressful when your littermates are suddenly gone, and you can hear big dogs barking outside, and everything smells weird.

It's been a long time since I was involved in puppy training, but I do remember what all is involved ... and this little sweet heart certainly shows all the signs of being worth the trouble.

Now we just have to find out what his name is. :)