Back to the BC Culture PageRecently we lost our fifteen-and-a-half-year-old Border Collie, Nell. This heartwrenching loss was offset by all the comforting things said to me. Nell was so much a presence in our family, and to others as well. I have been deeply touched by knowing that she made such a mark, even inspiring some to get a Border Collie. She was a very special dog, much loved and missed.
Nell was also one of those extra-special obedience dogs: hundreds of placings, a couple dozen all-breed AKC High-in-Trials (including winning Sportsmen's three times), an OTCH earned in seven weeks. She had several Gaines Regional and Classic tournament placings and won the World Series Tournament, Open Division, two different years. Nell ended up number two Border Collie in the nation for a couple of years. Throughout those years of training and showing together, winning and losing, we came to share that tremendous bond that long-term competitors know--a relationship I will always respect in other teams as well.
In the ring, Nell was a high-spirited, flashy dog, full of mischief and sweetness. She almost always drew a crowd--the appeal of her personality and intensity.
All of those honors--gratifying as they were--seem immaterial when compared to the memories we have of Nell herself. It's the tennis ball dropped in my shower each morning that I miss; the cold nose nudging me for the last of my cereal milk, her ever-present gaze on me assessing opportunities for play or attention. I remember how many of us laughed hysterically at how she used to creep up and try to "eye" the flyball box into giving up its ball. I remember tracking her in alfalfa so deep that all I could see was her waving white-tipped tail. She was always the last family member to fall asleep and the first to awaken. Usually I woke up to find her staring at me or sometimes nudging a ball into my face. Nell was ever sunny and inventive, a joy to train and show, a dog who gave and gave, with a heart as big as a mountain. She was the quintessential Border Collie.
We chose her when she was seven weeks, and even then she had two outstanding characteristics that became part of her identity. One, although small in her litter, she was always the first to reach and fling herself into the arms of any human being coming into sight. And two, as my observant husband noticed, she had even then an incredible single-mindedness and focus for such a little thing, whether playing with a toy or staring off at the nearby sheep. Later I came to believe that her adult attention span was greater than that of many people I know!
That trait--intensity, focus--is the mark of a true Border Collie; it lies at the heart of natural, longterm-bred herding ability. Nell herself was bred from honest, working parents, the co-canine-managers of a small sheep farm in Virginia belonging to Candace Terry. And she, too, plainly had all the attributes of an excellent sheepdog. Nell was a great obedience dog precisely because of her strong herding characteristics. She is a perfect example of why the Border Collie should remain as it is: an animal bred for work and for brains. Thank you, Candace, for breeding such a wonderful dog.
This fabulous breed--with its incredible instinct to work and think that is so fascinating to people--is an example of undiluted breeding, that is, breeding not for conformation, not for some of this and some of that, not a product of the "jack of all trades" philosophy.
The true measure of the worth of these dogs goes far beyond human-tailored tests in a small area, or compulsive retrieving, or rounding up the kids. These are all hunting-related traits, present in many breeds. With the Border Collie, two hundred years plus of very selective breeding for work has produced a dog unmatched in its working instincts. But even longterm genetic results such as this are notoriously fragile and can quickly be lost.
In Scotland, which I've visited three times, I've been fortunate enough on several occasions to spend time with shepherd friends and accompany them in the hill country. I have a vivid memory of seeing over and over a Border Collie sent by a shepherd disappear over the top of a rocky, foggy mountain and return fifteen minutes later with a thousand sheep, fetching them quietly, efficiently, single-handedly. I remember standing on top of a vast mountain top watching a shepherd on a distant moor working his dog on his own flock until darkness and clouds swallowed them up. Not only was the sight of those dogs incomparably beautiful, it was also awesome, an experience that changes your perspective of the breed forever.
Not everyone can experience this sort of drama, not everyone can even work his or her dog on sheep. But it is essential, crucial even, that we respect this breed as a product of painstaking, longterm development. Do we really want to sacrifice or temper or dilute this for the human satisfaction of some capital letters before a dog's name? Don't kid yourself that you can have it all. It just doesn't work that way. In Britain, after just ten years of conformation showing, they have two breeds with the same name, but little else that remains similar. The working Border Collies there and here remain as they have been: intelligent, intense, highly energetic animals with a "work ethic" that won't quit. This is the breed. As the old saying goes, "if it ain't broke, don't fix it."
This brings to mind another wonderful time I remember in Nellie's life when, for reasons too complicated to explain, we ended up with three sheep in our Ann Arbor backyard. For six months! The sheep settled in quite easily except for one thing: They were hellbent on spending the days lying on our patio. This I didn't want. For the first couple of days, I spent a lot of time ineptly shooing the sheep up into the grass to the back of the yard. Nell accompanied me enthusiastically, watching intently. Then, she "got it." After that, Nell handled the situation on her own, several times a day. She would fly out the "doggie door" when she heard the sheep, and move them efficiently to the back. She'd hang around them briefly to make sure they were staying put, then would return to the house with a pleased smile and a satisfied swish of her tail. It became her mission, and she worked like a pro. Occasionally she moved the sheep to another area of the yard--I suppose when the days were too uneventful. I suspect that was the happiest six months of her life. If we went off together to a show, she would sunnily perform up to her usual level, but could hardly wait to get back to "see to things" in the yard!
All of these musings are my personal memorial to my special Nellie. The additional things I have written come from my respect and love not only for Nell but for the breed she was so much the essence of. Down the road, let's not find that we have to write a memorial for the Border Collie as a breed.
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