This week I got to meet Jesse Wetherell, an almost-2-year-old Australian shepherd. She’s social and smart and VERY pretty. And she ISN’T Australian. I KNOW! What’s up with that? Turns out, her family probably started out in Spain as herders, then came over to America and Australia to help other ranchers. So, there you are.
Even before I knocked, Jesse and her Dad, Kris, (he works from home) were waiting at the door. Jesse was all excited, and almost forgot her wag-and-sniff. Her wag was so cute, ‘cuz she didn’t really have a tail that you could tell, so she wagged her whole back end.
“Oops,” she said. “There’s so much to learn still. Did I get it right?”
“Absolutely,” I said.
We went out to the pool/patio. “Wow. You have really nice, unusual coloring.” I remarked. Her fur was soft, white and auburn with some gold places, polka dots on her head and one blue eye and one with gold and green and brown!
“I know. It’s actually pretty common with my breed. Dad says my color is red merle, and my eyes are called, um, oh, woof, I forgot, but it means three colors.”
“Well, they’re really pretty,” I said. “So, tell me how you found your family.”
“Dad and Mom (her name’s Bonnie) had another shepherd for a long time, Jake. He was a rescue. When he was 13½ he went to Dog Heaven. Mom and Dad wanted another pooch like Jake and they had a friend who had one named Fish. She told them about a breeder near Ocala who took the best care of her puppies, made sure they were all healthy and happy and stuff, and had good hips and elbows. So Mom and Dad went there and got ME! Turns out Fish is my uncle.
“Dad says even though I‘m still a pupster, I’m really smart. I already know how to sit and twirl, and woof on command. Plus, when Dad stretches, I stretch, too, and make that growly stretch sound. Watch!”
She put her rear end up in the air and stretched her paws way out in front of her and went “Mmmaaaaaaaaaaahhhh.”
“See?”
“Cool dog biscuits!” I said. It made me want to stretch, too, but I was working so I didn’t.
“Dad is teaching me with words and hand signals. He says hands signals are how working shepherds learn ‘cuz when they’re herding sheep they’re too far away to hear words. I’m good at herding, but there aren‘t that many sheep around here, so I try to herd the human pupsters who come to play in the pool. And sometimes I herd Mom and Dad. I like to keep track of where they are.”
“Whaddya do for fun?” I asked. “Do you swim?”
“NO! When I was a real little pupster I was running around out here and accidently fell in the pool! I dog-paddled ‘till Mom rescued me but It scared the woof out of me. But twice a week I go to doggie day care at A Dog’s Life. We call it ‘camp.’ Dad says it’s an Important Outlet to Expend Energy, but to me it’s just FUN! All day long I run around and play with lots of other dogs, all different sizes and breeds.
“The human who runs it is an RN and she gives our humans Helpful Suggestions and shows us all how to get along. By the end of the day, I am one pooped pooch. I usually fall asleep on the ride home. Sometimes I’m even too pooped to eat dinner. On the days when I don ‘t have camp, I leash walk with Dad. And we play Frisbee.”
“You seem pretty laid back,” I observed.
“I am. I like to relax and be, you know, tranquil. I want everybody to be happy. Like, when Dad is talking about his experiences in traffic he can get sorta, um, agitated. So I give him a little nose bump and a little soft woof, to remind him to chill. Works every time.”
“How about toys – and treats?” I wondered.
“I get treats, but they’re just random, not ‘cuz I do tricks. Dad says I’m not Motivated by Food. I don’t have many toys. Just a big rubber chew bone. Oh, and the chicken. Mom got me a toy rubber chicken that squeaks. The first time she gave it to me and made it squeak, I was all concerned and sympathetic ‘cuz I thought it was injured. But then I realized it was a toy and was spos’d to do that. So now Mom and Dad throw it and I go get it.”
“Any special dog pals?”
“Well, there’s all my dog buddies at camp. Then there’s Dobby and Duffy Ritchie, my next-door neighbors. They’re bassett hounds. We don’t actually play, but we yap across the fence a lot.
“Oooh, and here’s something cool. Dad says I have an aptitude for Sniffing. He thinks maybe me and him can help our community by me learning to be a search dog. We could help find lost humans or bad guys or something called Drugs. I don’t totally understand that, but Dad says they get humans into all kinds of Big Trouble and they sometimes hide ’em and then special dogs have to use their sniffers to find ’em. I really am a good sniffer so maybe we’ll do that. I’d like to be of service to humans. Sounds like they could use the help.”
“That’s impressive, Jesse!” I said sincerely. Then it was time to go. “It was very nice yapping with you.”
“Bye, Mr. Bonzo. I hope to see you again sometime.”
Heading home, I realized I’d like to see her again sometime, too. Sigh.
