When the Morning Walk Turns into a Run

"Cats," I said, when I saw two sets of eyes looking at me from the picnic table near the pond.

But they were kittens really. Just a pound each, and probably six weeks old.

They were also in danger.

I was on my morning dog walk around the pond with two cat-chasing Border collies and one loves-all-things-stinky Border collie.

I got the two cat chasers on leash as the kittens saw me for what I was: human.

They came running toward me.

The dogs strained on their leashes to get to the kittens.

Bad things could happen if they met.

So, I turned and ran toward home. Dragging two 40-pound Border collies behind me and with two kittens chasing me, I called for the third Border collie, Bubba, the lover of sheep poo, dead turtles and fish goo, who was meandering around the pond.

How fast and far must one go to outrun two kittens?

Turns out 100 yards will do it.

After securing the Border collies safely at home, I returned to the pond and found the owner of the kitties. The kittens are now safely home. They, being kittens, pay no attention to property boundaries and had wandered over to the pond when relatives camped there over the weekend, and did not know how to find their way home.

Good-Bye Tag (2005-2020)

Tag loved his role as ambassador for Buckeye Border Collie Rescue.

  

We never thought Tag would live into his teens. 

He came into Buckeye Border Collie Rescue from an animal shelter in Ohio. He was an adolescent pup with a burnt tongue (most likely those Christmas lights, though he would never say) and then immediately he came down with parvo.

Eight-month-old Tag on his adoption day.

But he had a great temperament. We adopted him from Buckeye Border Collie Rescue in the spring of 2006, and he quickly became the farm greeter, lap sitter extraordinaire and a constant companion.

Tag and Dewey Kitty (when Dewey was a kitty).

His talent was cuddling, with cats and humans.

And, he could make the best monkey noises. He’d sit on Randy’s lap, and they’d howl away.

Randy with Tag and Leslie the Cat.

A herding dog, though, he was not.

When introduced to sheep, he stepped behind me and followed as I moved the sheep around. He was content to watch the sheep from a distance.

Tag by the Stillwater River.

A perfectly named dog, he tagged along with me when I did chores and trekked around the farm. He never bothered the cats or the chickens or sheep.

Tag,  Caeli and me.

Portrait of Caeli and Tag by Mary Jo White.

His best dog buddy was Caeli, who is now in her teens. For years, they played and wrestled in the yard and cuddled together on the couch. We called them the old married couple.

But, as happens, the years caught up with Tag, and he slowed both mentally and physically. He went from sleeping on the couch to sleeping on a dog bed on the floor. He gave up the nightly dog walk, and instead wandered around the yard.

One tradition he didn’t give up, though, was sitting on Randy’s lap. After dinner each night, he’d sit on Randy’s lap, smile and stare at me.

But in the past few days, that too, was too much. And, the little guy with the big heart said his time here on earth was done.

That’ll do, Tag. That’ll do.