I have a big Border collie and a smaller part Border collie female that I adopted from NW Ala Herding Dog Rescue. The smaller one the original owner had named her Catfish but after she arrived, Mom called her Blackie and she decided she liked that name better than Catfish. Some how the Border collie genes flew by too fast and she didn’t catch its intelligence. She looks more like a little black bear with a short tail and the gold highlights of a grizzly and the attitude to match. The larger Border collie Patches is too smart for her own good; you can just see the wheels turning while she is thinking what she can get into next. When you give the two of them a dog biscuit each thinks the other one has something better. Patches will open the dog feeder door, drop her biscuit in it and go steal Blackie’s biscuit. In the mean time Blackie has left her biscuit and is looking around the feeder for Patches’ biscuit
Let me first state that I grew up with Border collies on our dairy farm, so I fully under stood what I was getting into. They have to be constantly doing something. My mistake was bragging earlier one morning how sweet and well behaved they had become. They were just letting me get into a false sense of satisfaction that I finally had become the pack leader. One afternoon I was re-potting some of my African violets and had my worm compost bin open getting some worm tea and vermicompost to put in the potting mix. I had dug down to the bottom to get some of the finished compost lacking red wigglers. Afterwards I mixed up the new and old kitchen vegetable scraps and tea and coffee gounds uniformly. Before you say yuck, this black gold costs five dollars for just a couple of pounds and makes great use of kitchen waste. I left the lid off of the bin when I took one of the plants back in the house. I received a phone call which delayed my return trip back out to the garage. When I opened the back door I was greeted with red wigglers crawling across the floor among kitchen scraps in various stages of digestion. After cleaning the garage up, I walked out to the driveway, and behind my Jeep, I was greeted with another pile of compost and red wigglers crawling across the concrete. While cleaning this up the Levi and Patches kept bouncing a tennis ball back and forth wanting me to come and play. I went out into the back garage to feed them before retiring for the evening and apparently one decided to eat the feet off of a concrete sprinkler shaped like a turtle that I was using as a door stop. Now I just have a turtle shell with a partial head. They have been doing something constructive though based on the large number of chewed up field mice they are leaving along the garden paths. Since they are rescues, they know who saved them and are very protective, and I guess they are good for keeping me one my toes and my mind sharp as I permantly stay 37 and a half years old.