My brother, sister-in-law and their two little girls were visiting last week. They stayed at Mom’s house, which is on our property, about 60 feet down hill from our house. One of the things my 4 year old niece liked was visiting with our dogs. I took one down to mom’s house each evening. Erin liked giving them treats and petting them. She asked that Cochise make an encore visit on her last day, so she may have liked him best this year. Last year she and Blondie toured our house together during their visit.
We talked dogs. I reminisced about one of my favorite dogs from my youth: Brandy.
Brandy was a Welsh Corgie. Among his more outstanding features was that he liked to go sailing with me. He even helped sail the boat. Or at least bring it back to dock.
Brandy would stand on the foredeck with a pre-prepared rope in his mouth. As we approached the dock I’d give him the word, he’d leap over to the dock, run around a cleat and jump back into the cockpit with me. I’d take the rope and wrap it around a cleat on the boat and arrest or forward motion so we’d swing lightly along side the pier. It was a trick that tended to leave spectators gape-jawed… once we got it down pat. There were many embarrassing moments during the training.
Other peculiar traits were that he greatly disliked anyone in any kind of uniform: mail man, meter reader, policeman, military, any uniform. I adopted him from a shelter, so I didn’t know his background.
Also, hot air balloons caused him to leap into the air and bark incessantly. We lived in Bloomington/Normal IL at the time and hot air balloon races and exhibitions were not uncommon. Airplanes, helicopters, birds: no problem. Balloon: get ready for insanity.
Otherwise he was a pretty sedate, affectionate little fellow and I liked him a lot. The feeling seemed to be mutual.