Katy

Sometime after we moved into this house, the wife and kids started asking me when we could get another dog. After all, bigger house, more animals, right? Seems logical to some people. Go figure. Anyway, my response was always, "One of these days." So one evening, Joreen apparently decided "one of these days" meant "right now" because she called an ad in the paper for a border collie. A healthy exchange of ideas (argument) ensued, during which I told Joreen she was to call the number in the paper and tell them she wasn't coming. Andi responded in a very mature, understanding fashion -- she grabbed the newspaper, ran into our bedroom, and threatened to eat the phone number so her mom couldn't call it. Andi said, "Mom's going to pick up MY DOG!"

Sure enough, later that evening, in comes this border collie. Adjustments had to be made all around. It was her first time in a vehicle, first time away from her sister, first time indoors and, judging from the way she jumped three feet in the air when I turned on the stereo, the first time she listened to the Grateful Dead. We couldn't even name her, because she had already been named "Katy," so we adjusted it to "K.D." for "Kelly's Dog," which is her official name at the vet's.

I had been sold this line that border collies are "smart." Well, independent thinkers, that's for sure, but smart as in easy for first time collie owners to paper train, fuhgedaboudit. She took her sweet time learning that one, in the process picking up the nickname "Einstein" from the guy who had to keep changing his socks.

She did pick up one really high functioning trick, though, and with a vengeance. I taught her to fetch the newspaper in the orange plastic bag and bring it in the house. It took a pretty long time to get her to actually bring it in the house, but she then took a step further, insisting on stripping the bag off the paper, which of course earned her a Beggin' Strip (which smell like bacon, kind of, in an air freshener kind of way.)

One true thing about border collies: they need a job, they need work. Katy took her assignment to fetch the paper so seriously that it led to one of our favorite stories. One time, without our knowing it, we had ignored one too many notices from the Patriot-News to send them some money, and the paper was stopped. So one cold, dark morning, I got out of bed, Katy right in front of me, and headed for the door. "Ready to go to work?" I asked her as I did each time, and she licked her lips in response. (What the hell is in those Beggin' Strips?) Anyway, I opened the door, said, "Get the paper!" and she was off like a shot. It being cold and nasty, I shut the door to wait for her. It took a little longer than usual, but there she was with the orange bag, and life went on as usual -- until the phone rang. It was our next door neighbor, who said, "I think your dog just stole my newspaper."

Katy loved the Frisbee and loved to play catch with the ball. She would sit at the top of the steps, catch a tennis ball, then drop it and let it bounce down to me so I could throw it again. And again. For what seemed like hours.

In her later years, like many athletes, her joints started giving out, and her hips got pretty bad. After Gracie died, Katy was inconsolable, and started going downhill. She was never really herself again, and slowly began losing weight. This Labor Day weekend, she stopped eating and could barely move. Carney Shenk, who for the record is the most knowledgeable and compassionate veterinarian in the world, told us it was probably cancer, and that her organs were shutting down. For the second time this year, it was my task to finish what I started when I accepted dog ownership. Once again, as with Gracie, I made sure that the last words my pet heard were, "Katy's a good dog."

I'll look around and find some other pictures to post of her later. Right now, I'm not up to it. Fortunately, there are some other more cheerful things going on and I'll post about them soon.