Thought I’d tell y’all a little story this morning. Keith & I’ve always been dog people and, ordinarily, he has his and I have mine but we each love the other’s and the dogs are BFFs, of course. One reason we moved to the country was to unleash our dogs & say Farewell, Poop Bags.

What we didn’t realize was how treacherous it was going to be. Snakes, coyotes, etc. One day our German Shorthair, Geli (pronounced jelly), made the mistake of getting into a tangle with a raccoon. Cornered, the varmint went straight for Geli’s face & scratched out her right eye.

We were traumatized. Rushed her to the vet & needless to say, the injury led to surgery & our beautiful bird dog had one set of eyelids sewn shut. They made her stay inactive for 10 days. On the 11th day, I took the dogs outside for the first time and beheld a strange phenomenon.

Queen Esther, my border collie, raised from puppyhood with Geli, instantly became Geli’s right eye. She ran next to her skin to skin, fur to fur, always and only on her right side. She navigated her around every tree, every hole, every conceivable obstacle and threat of peril.

Keith didn’t believe me at first. Oh he knew border collies were herders. He didn’t doubt she was herding Geli but he thought I was imagining things about it always being to the side of her missing eye. Till he saw it himself. It was uncanny. The wildest thing we’d ever seen.

Queen Esther wasn’t always pleasant about it though she’d never been more exhilarated. Never felt more called. Border collies tend to be bossy pants. She’d come to the throne for such a time as this. If Geli attempted any independence at all, Queen Esther barked right in her ear.

This went on for about 3 weeks. Then one fateful day, I opened the front door and Geli hauled off about 30 mph. Left the Queen in the dust. Geli’d always been able to outrun her by a country mile, her with her long lithe birddog legs and all and Esther with her short stumpy ones.

Queen Esther ran behind her, protesting loud enough to wake the neighborhood & then she finally gave up and walked back to the front yard with her head & tail dragging a tree’s worth of pine needles. She plopped down demoralized, neck flat to dirt. I sat beside her & hugged her.

“You did such a fine job. Look what you did! You’re the reason she got her courage back. You’re why she can run again. No dog’s ever had a more faithful companion.” I held her sweet face, hugged her tight & gave her a treat. Geli cane back but Esther didn’t speak to her all day.

That’s it. That’s the story. No real moral to it. Unless you could use reminding that, just because they don’t need you anymore, doesn’t mean they don’t want you anymore. If for any reason they don’t, that’s their loss. Let go of the pouting. Watch ‘em run. You taught ‘em how.