THE DOGS WE HAVE KNOW

By Mike Safley

      As I grow older, I take notice of things that never occurred to me in my immortal youth. These days I glance at the obituaries, taking note of the newly departed’s birth date, paying particular attention to those that were subsequent to my own. About two months ago my wife Julie and I lost our beloved border collie, Lucy. She was about ten years old. As I was mourning Lucy’s passing, it occurred to me that we had outlived two dogs at Northwest Alpacas.

      Lucy’s death, together with our last child leaving for college, left the inevitable empty nest and a quiet house. We decided we needed a puppy to keep our lovely Corgi, Mimi; Earl, and ourselves company. It’s nice to know someone is depending on you! 

      We have been blessed with great dogs. The first was Mugsy, our brindle-colored Corgi bitch. All of about ten inches high and a foot and a half long, Mugsy had the heart of a lion. Corgis are an old breed of herding dogs that work the cattle by nipping at their heels. Mugsy―named after the shortest player in NBA history, Mugsy Bogues―was built too close to the grass for an ascending blow from an alpaca’s hind leg to land squarely. She was tireless and would drive the alpacas all day long. Given the chance, she made friends with most, but not all, of the herd, often rolling over in total submission, allowing a suspicious alpaca to smell her belly. And Mugsy knew exactly who not to trust after a big male with a stomp-first attitude pounded her within an inch of her life.

      Lucy, our border collie, came to the ranch in 1995 loaded with frenetic energy, the result of a trade with Jodi Sleeper, an ALSA llama and alpaca judge who needed two alpaca male subjects so her collies could practice herding. Lucy had to be one of the smartest dogs I ever knew. Quick as a cat, she would race around behind a group of alpacas and bring them to me without fail. She was never as friendly with the alpacas as Mugsy and loved to intimidate the alpacas by giving them the eye, creeping up, low to the ground, until they broke in the direction she had in mind. If I left Lucy in the pasture without giving her commands, she would herd the group into the corner and not let them out.

      Mugsy left us four years ago and we found another corgi—Mimi, this time a tricolor—to replace her. Mimi and Lucy, her elder, were great friends. When Lucy passed on, we began researching a wide range of dog breeds for a suitable companion for Mimi, Julie, Earl and me. We settled on a Portuguese water dog.

      Portuguese water dogs are an ancient breed, most likely the result of crossbreeding Poodles, Newfoundlands, and maybe Springer Spaniels. Portuguese fishermen developed the breed to guard their boats, herd fish into their nets, and retrieve gear from the sea. The Basque people used the dogs to herd sheep. They are a hard-working breed.

       Julie and I have a large pond out back, lots of alpacas to herd, and an empty nest. The puppy that we named Lilly fills a lot of needs. She has made fast friends with Mimi and our African grey parrot Earl—although Earl is not so sure about the puppy.

      Our new puppy should live to the ripe old age of twelve: I will be seventy-two by then, and maybe she will outlive me. The parrot, who we acquired at the AOBA auction in 1996 should live at least another sixty years so we don’t need to worry about outliving him. Earl is a great friend. He wakes up the kids every morning, yelling, “Katteee, Margo, KC . . .,” even though they no longer live at home. When the phone rings he says, “Hello! Charlie, get the phone!” Charlie left for college three years ago. Earl whistles for the dogs when Julie rattles the dog food, and they don’t seem to mind that he calls them Mugsy and Lucy.