Swimming Down Syndrome

      Let's face it: the Special Olympics has been a boon to the fitness regimen for many disabled folks who would never otherwise get out of the house.  Amanda is no exception.  Over the years, getting her to exercise has taken a considerable amount of coaxing, begging, and strategic thinking on my part.

     But one thing she loves to do is swim.  She actually won several gold medals while competing in Mt Pleasant years ago.  She didn't always fancy the beach, but if given an opportunity, she would rarely turn down a chance to go in a pool.  So when I found out an excerpt from our story, THE NORTH SIDE OF DOWN, would be featured in the BookDaily "Health and Fitness" ezine, this chapter immediately sprang to mind:

      Physical activity was demanding for Amanda.  She didn’t want to take walks with me.  I figured if I weighed over 200 pounds, with bad knees and tiny, flat feet, I wouldn’t want to walk, either.  But she could swim.  Our cousin Denny had a pool at his hotel, and so as summer heated up, that became our ritual.  Best of all, on days when she went swimming, I didn’t make her take a shower.  If the chlorine was heavy, she could just hose off at the pool.  She didn’t have any hair to wash.  I did insist that she shave her armpits.  When I wasn’t around, she had a tendency to let the hair grow.  That was easy enough for me to fix.  If she happened to lift her arm for any reason, exposing armpit hair, I would make the motion of pulling the cord on a lawn mower.           

“Rrrrummm…  Rummm rum rum rum!” I would grab the invisible handle and jounce like I was pushing it.

            She glared at me.  “Knock it off!” 

            But it always worked.  She would shave her armpits.

            She hated the whole shower effort.  “It’s always the same old thing.”

            On our first swim day, she came out of the bathroom wearing her shorts and tank top over a leopard print one-piece. 

            “I had to wrestle my swimming suit to get it on,” she said, sitting down and reaching for her shoes.

            “Okay, I’ll be ready in a sec.” I went in the bathroom and glanced into the bathtub.  On the curve of rusty porcelain near the drain there was a creature about the size of a quarter, with eight tentacles.  I believe the scientific name for it is Lupus Arachnis Horribilis. Being an animal lover, I had no fear of spiders, regardless of their size, but this was a good opportunity to stir things up with Amanda.

The lens case is for size comparison, although I later claimed I had, "dropped my lens case when I realized the brown blob wasn't my false eyelashes!"

 

            "Amanda!" I screeched. "You've got to see this!"

            She must have known what I was yelling about, because she came hobbling in armed with a fly swatter. "I'm gonna swoosh him.”

            I jumped up and down screaming while she swooshed and Lupus ran down the drain. She turned on the faucet. "It's okay Nancy. He's gone. Pull yourself together."

            As we got in the car, I said, “Jeesh, after all that I am gonna need a cola.  Let’s head over to the Northwood.  You can tell Celia’s mom about your conquest.”

            “Celia's mother doesn't own the restaurant anymore,” Amanda said. 

            “She doesn’t?”

            “No.  She said she misses working there.”

            “Who owns it now?”

            “The other owner.”

            We drove on down through the woods to Pins restaurant, turning down the cracked ribbon of pavement to the resort area where the big wooden fence surrounded Denny’s pool.  Til was panting in the back seat.  He jumped out when I opened the door and ran into the woods with his nose down, his plumy white tail waving.  “Hurry up!” I yelled. “Go potty! Hurry up!”

            “Jeesh. Pressure, Nancy. Pressure!”  Amanda said.

            “Well, you don’t want any accidents in the pool, do you?” 

            “Don’t be gross!”

            Til performed his duty and came blasting back, and we walked up to the big, creaky gate and stepped inside.  As I had expected, we were the only ones there.  As Amanda rolled and played in the water, tossing a ball for the elated dog, I watched from the poolside. 

            “Here,” I took a couple of quarters from my pocket and dropped them in, watching as they glinted and flipped to the bottom.  “See if you can find these!”

            She dove, slippery as a seal, her little flat feet pointing and waving up at the wrinkled water’s surface, her hand patting the pool floor all around the quarters.  She was so buoyant that it was taking hard scissor kicks to keep her inverted.  I was thinking I could probably get some muscle tone on her just by dropping things into the pool a few days a week.

            Finally, she came up gasping for breath. 

            “You missed!” I shouted.

            “I know,” she said.

            “Can’t you open your eyes?”

            “I don’t like getting them in the chlorine.  I don’t have my goggles.  Hey, you should come in with me!”

            “Not gonna happen.  You know I don’t swim.”

            “Chicken.  Bawk, bawk buk buk.”

            “That’s right.  And if the ferry ever sinks, you’re under contract to save my sorry cement block ass.”

            “It’s a deal.”  She dove again, patting the bottom and this time I saw her fist close over a quarter.  She surfaced.  “I got it!”

            “Waytago!”

            She swam to the poolside, putting the quarter up by my foot.  “Here’s your change, Nancy.”

            As I bent over to pick it up, I was hit in the side of the face and head with a blast of cold water.  “Hey!”

            I looked up and caught a glimpse of the squirt gun she was aiming at me, just before another shot of water hit me right between the eyes.  “You’re gonna get wet, one way or the other, you rat!” She was roaring laughter, dousing me with rapid bursts of cold spray as I screamed and ducked away.

            “How did you…” I shouted, and then choked as she caught me with another shot square in the mouth.  I had never heard her laugh so hard. 

            “Let me introduce my secret weapon, Nancy!” she shouted.  She was floating upright, bobbing gently in the water like a buoy, her bald head gleaming in the bright sun, pointing the lime green plastic gun at me.

 

Excerpt from, THE NORTH SIDE OF DOWN: A True Story of Two Sisters

By Nancy J. Bailey and Amanda Bailey

Copyright 2014

Border Collie on Slate

My friend Barb's border collie is featured in today's slate painting. This beautiful dog has appeared on billboards promoting pet expos all over the country from Michigan to New York. She is easily one of the fastest dogs I have ever seen. I was happy to be able to paint her and I incorporated the image of the sun in honor of her name: Bryte!  About 6x8"

Isn't It Rich....

Clifford was invited back to Cedarville Library to co-host a clown's appearance on June 18, 2012. These ladies had a lot of fun with him, being kindred spirits and all.  They even let him keep the glasses!

We had a good crowd there and Clifford signed books on this little table.  The signing was interrupted when he realized the table had wheels.  He just wanted to keep pushing it around.

Terrible Til, Cliffy's border collie buddy, had a good time performing tricks for the 50+ kids that showed up.  This girl took kind of a shine to him.  They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.

Til shows how to best balance on clown feet.

After our library visit, we stopped over at Cedar Cove Assisted Living Center.  There was a lady there who wanted to see Clifford so badly that she postponed a doctor's appointment to wait for us.  She was sitting on the porch when we arrived.  Note how she is shrinking away.  I guess nobody warned her that when you meet Clifford, you MEET him.

After that, we went inside to meet the residents and sign books.  They took turns posing with him by the fireplace.

He was ready to nod off there in the air conditioning.  No bugs...  Ahhhh...

Thanks, Til!

Thanks for visiting us!  Help support Clifford's 2013 tour by visiting our campaign site.  

Talking With Dogs

As I am moving back into my role as teacher, not only through the upcoming Tricks class at Borderhauss Kennels but as a certified CATCH trainer mentor, I'm realizing how much nonverbal actions and consequences go into my daily routines.  My thoughts are constantly on reinforcing behaviors that I like, eliminating ones I don't like.  There are very few random treats I give my dogs.  I am in the mode of thinking that no cookie goes wasted.  I am, in essence, a training machine.

Til and Ms. Rip hanging out at Cindy's house.

 
While this might seem kind of sad, it puts communication on a whole new level.  I have had to reassess this, too, because now that I have my first border collie, I realize that I haven't made full use of the wonderful cognitive skills in dogs.  I no longer use the grunts and broken English reminiscent of an old Tarzan movie.  I use full sentences.  "Til, Nikita stole your toy and hid it in her cage.  You can find it in there.  Go get it out and bring it to me."

And he does.

I am talking to the border collie much more than I have to others, and the overflow extends to other dogs around him.

A few weeks ago, in house sitting for my friend Cindy while she was away, and caring for her two dogs, I was back to Square One.  The dogs, a Labrador named Nikita and a spaniel mix named Maggie, are both "amateurs" when it comes to the ever evolving "Bailey Method".  Nikita especially is completely clueless.  She is a big, tan, smiling, good-natured oaf, awkward and pushy in her affections.

I hold up a cookie.  "Sit," I tell her.  I KNOW she knows this cue.  She just stands there grinning, ears flattened, whipping her tail back and forth.

At this point, I have another revelation that with rescue dogs, and dogs who have been randomly reinforced, it is better not to talk.  Their lives are filled with meaningless noise.  They tune it out.  So I revert back to my old nonverbal ways and simply hold the cookie back over her head.  She sits. I toss the cookie and she clumsily snaps at it.

With Nikita I would be back to Tarzan Talk for a little while, using the barest of verbiage, while she begins to grasp all over again that language really does have meaning, and to listen intently for more complex instructions.  As she got to know me, she would eventually start to pay more attention.

Perhaps even more importantly, I would have to learn how to listen to her.

Dogs have a more difficult time, I think, when they are trying to tell us what's going on.  They are usually limited to body language and it comes out in something akin to a game of charades.  "Timmy fell down the well?" is a joke -- sort of.

I just finished a stint at the Reading Pet Expo in Pennsylvania, where Til and I performed our freestyle frisbee routine.  Luckily for me, Til is very adept at catching, which compensates for my lame throwing abilities. Add to this the fact that our routine is usually performed amidst the agility course, with the equipment providing a number of obstacles. During one of our shows yesterday, the frisbee fell down inside one of the hollow jump columns, which is about waist high and barrel shaped.  The audience erupted into laughter, but because I had pitched it from behind the high jump, I couldn't see where it had landed.  When I looked around the high jump, I saw Til running tight circles around the column -- clearly indicating where it was.

I don't think I could do that again if I tried!

Yesterday morning, while I was sitting on the hotel bed putting my shoes on, little Estephar the Chihuahua decided to attack me.  We were running late for the show, but I started wrestling with her anyway.  Til came over, picked up one of my shoes, and plopped it into my lap.

That time, again, the message was unmistakable.

As my friend Susan said, "At least there is one mature and responsible member in this family."

Horses and Dogs

Rip and Til playing, "Ring Around the Pony"

Remembering a ride on the Island:  

It's Cliffy's turn to run free and I've saddled Trudy up. We are enjoying a lively trot down the road toward the shore. Til the border collie has taken it upon himself to do some sort of ad-lib herding thing, which consists of blasting ahead at top speed, coming back and circling behind both horses. 

Clifford is lagging behind to eat grass and then periodically galloping to catch up. On one trip back, Til sees him coming and hits the brakes. Most horses would slow down upon seeing a dog directly in their path. Clifford speeds up. He comes flying past Trudy, straight at the little dog. 

My heart is in my throat, but I say nothing because Clifford is clearly trying to scare me again. Til sees him coming, does a quick double back, and runs for his life with Clifford pounding along behind him. Cliffy leaps into the air and flings his back feet high, clearly ecstatic that he has had the desired effect. Til runs off up the road and Clifford stops, looking after him, and lets out a huge snort. "Take that!" Then he looks back at me to make sure I've caught the whole thing.

We go out to the shore and hang out for a bit, so the horses can drink lake water, lick the rocks and eat some of the harsh tufted grass which they clearly love. Clifford has had no interest in dogs since his surrogate mother Reva died in 2001. But I see that Til is not the least bit afraid of either horse and they seem to have some sort of arrangement. On the way back, it is the same, with the dog circling and racing and Cliffy nibbling grass. Then Clifford trots past us with his tail up, and I start yelling. "Git him, Clifford! Get that bad dog!"

More than happy to oblige, Clifford takes off, chasing the white dog madly up the road, shooting out his front legs and arching his neck and shaking his head. He has that same old suspension, floating above ground like he did when he was two years old. It is all a game, and the whole group of us, Trudy, Ms. Rip, Cliffy and Til and me, whoop and holler and run and ride like mad, all the way back to camp.

It's just like old times. It seems we just needed the right influence.

Dozing backstage at the Pet Expo

There is no question that the two species communicate very clearly to one another. 

I remember an incident at the 2011 Horse and Pet Expo in Secaucus New Jersey.  A lady stopped me in the aisle. She had a big boxer dog straining on the leash. She was smiling. "Could he meet your horse?" 

I was frazzled between shows, still had to take the dogs outside, fetch water and about a thousand other things. "Sure," I told her. "I'll have him out here shortly." 

I ran back by a few minutes later and she was still waiting with this big snorting dog. I grinned at her but I was thinking, "Good grief, why is this such a big deal?" 

I went backstage, got Clifford and led him over to his painting table. He was instantly mobbed as usual. He signed a couple of books but then, to my surprise, he singled out this big sloppy dog, walked over to him and went nose-to-nose. The two of them conferred for awhile with bobbing heads; the boxer with his grinning, gaping maw and Clifford with an interested spark. It was one of the sweetest things I've ever seen. Finally, the dog broke off and went back to his lady. She stood there with her eyes welling up. "Thank you." 

As they left, I made a note to myself that I should always remember to be kind.  I still don't know exactly what had happened there. I do know that when I stay out of the way, Clifford can do some wonderful things.

 

Pigs Helping Pigs

This year, Long Island Pet Expo had a booth with potbellied pigs.  This is not unusual for a pet expo, but for some reason I got it in my head that one of them should be trick trained.

My dogs perform in a traveling sport arena called the Classic K9 show.  It includes high jumping, speed racing (over low jumps) and my border collie Til has his own freestyle frisbee show.  We travel all over the eastern USA, and are joined by local teams wherever we go.

Til performing at Long Island Pet Expo.

Some of the expos in Michigan have pig races, where they run around a track.  But I always had thoughts of taking one and training it to run the course in our show as my dogs do.  It may have started when Estephar my Chihuahua got her own pig costume.  Este can run the course, and she's pretty fast.  But she's only 6 lbs so a dog her size has limitations.  To exploit the inevitable breed discrimination that comes with a Chihuahua, I like to dress her up in glitzy outfits and spring her on the audience in the middle of our high speed division -- usually a bunch of border collies.  We play the "Rocky " theme as she skitters over the course in whatever garb she has donned, to the delight of the audience.  She's always a crowd favorite.

Este in her pig suit.

Anyway, back to the pigs.  Not surprisingly, pigs need rescue just like all other domestic animals.  They are abandoned, mistreated and even abused sometimes.   Janice, the thin, elegant lady running the booth for the Long Island Potbellied Pig Association, admitted to me that she was keeping 40 pigs at her house.  It was too many.  They really needed homes where they could get the love and attention they needed..  On Saturday I said maybe we could help the rescue, if I could get a pig to do a trick in our arena as an opening gag for the show.  She was very receptive to the idea.  "Pigs," she told me, "Are the fourth smartest animal."

Somewhere I had heard this.  I suspected the first three on the list were chimps, dolphins and elephants.  All animals can be trained to some extent.  Besides dogs, I had worked with horses, cats, a goat, and an arctic fox.  I'd always wanted to try pigs.  So I was assigned Will, who was one of Janice's favorites.  Will had found a home, but still traveled with Janice to serve as ambassador for other pigs who needed rescue.  At the request of Will's owners,  Janice had already taught him some cute things.  He could play a little piano with his nose, knock down some bowling pins, and turn in a circle.  I was very impressed because Janice didn't use a clicker.  She did a little targeting with her hand, and used Froot Loops as reinforcement.

It's like looking in a mirror!

I got my clicker and some Froot Loops and went to work with Will.  He was about the size of a large ottoman, probably weighing 300 lbs.  His face didn't have a whole lot of expression, at least in terms of what I was accustomed to.  Pigs eyesight is very poor, so I had to think about how to cue him.  He took the Froot Loops from my fingers none too gently with his raspy teeth, but at least he didn't bite down too hard.  As with most new subjects, I started out by just clicking and treating, to get him used to the sound of the click.  When he suddenly grabbed my fingers with a new urgency, I knew he was getting the gist of the click's message.

I taught him to start following me then, and eventually worked up to nudging his knee with my foot.  It wasn't long before he was kicking his foot out.  Soon he was volunteering all four feet, and the back ones too.  It wasn't easy to see his feet, since his big anvil-shaped head was in the way.  I had to bend over and look.  He would follow me around, squinting at me and flipping his nose up, like a nearsighted old man asking for a kiss.

The show was a success.  I had it arranged so that every time Will hit the keys on his little piano, "Beethoven's 5th" would boom through the speakers.  The audience howled.  Will performed all his tricks when asked, including the new foot-shaking. 

Later, when I ran Este in the show, she came out in her pig costume, just to remind the crowd of our Pig Cause.  They shouted in glee.

That night as we were packing up to leave, one of the pigs was left in a running car as his owner went to get something. When he came back, he found the pig, named Junk, had locked the door.  Junk was still inside the car with the engine running.  The police were called and by the time I got out there to gawk, there were four cops standing around the car trying to pry it open, while Junk leered at them from the front seat.  He honked the horn a couple of times, as if to tell them to hurry up.  I snapped photos and screeched with laughter.

Junk the Pig trapped in car.

Janice proved herself a good sport, as she laughed along with me.  "Where's your clicker now?" The pig's longsuffering owner tapped on the window and pointed at the door lock, begging Junk to unlock it.  Alas, no such luck.  Junk was having too good a time scouring the seats for chewing gum.  But finally the cops managed to open the door and Junk was liberated.

The car is no longer a Junker.

When Will performed his tricks yesterday for the audience, I told them the part about pigs being the fourth smartest animal.  I then added, "One of them locked himself in a car here last night.  And the owner was trying to get him to unlock the door.  Well, pigs are that smart!  He didn't get the door open, but he did take the car downtown for an oil change."

Will played piano and bowled for the audience, and I was happy to see him shaking his feet at them too.  I hope we helped raise some awareness for the plight of rescued pigs.  I don't know if we did.  But if 15 years ago I had known it was this easy to train a potbellied pig, I'd probably still be married.

Puppy Tricks

Most people don't realize this, but little puppies can learn tricks faster and with more panache than adult dogs can.  There's an early learning window lasting until a dog is about 5 months old, making their brains like little sponges.  They process all kinds of information during this time, and it's stuff that stays with them forever.  That's why it's important to socialize them during these months.  House training can be slow due only to their physical (read: bladder) limitations.  But the mind of a puppy is a thing of beauty.

Here's a video of Til showing off, at nine weeks, some of the behaviors I am teaching in my trick training workshops. The last one was a big success.  Our next one is scheduled on March 14 at BorderHauss kennels in Howell Michigan. 

Meanwhile you can get a few trick training tips for puppies in my handy booklet, "25 Ways to Raise a Great Puppy."

Happy tails!

25 Ways to Raise a Great Border Collie

Terrible Til once again had a successful run in the Disc Dogs of Michigan Frisbee competition.  This one was held in Grand Blanc, Michigan and we placed third in the novice toss-and-fetch, against about 30 teams.  Til is pictured (against an ugly plywood background, don't ask me why I did that) with his trophy and other prizes.  He's wearing his uniform that was lovingly hand-sewn by our friend Jerrie from Doggone Bandanas. 

Can I just say what a joy this border collie is?   "Terrible Til," my Dad jokingly dubbed him when he was a puppy, for his high drive, into-everything, non-stop busy-ness.  People have complained of his nickname, but as I explained, one definition of "Terrible" is, "causing awe".  So it's kind of like calling him, "Awesome Til".  (How's that for a bail-out answer?)  Til has made friends everywhere we go, and in true border collie style, he doesn't know the meaning of giving up.  He gives his all in every task and always with good humor.  "He's like the guy you always make sure to invite to the party," I told someone.  The "Court Jester" will keep the whole crowd laughing all night, but this one sticks around to help clean up the mess!

Til is well socialized, and I started early when he was only eight weeks old.  Here's an excerpt from my book about puppy training that pertains to socialization:

5)  Make New Friends

Puppies are a natural magnet for attention out in public.  Happily, this is the best thing for them.  After your pup has had his first vaccinations, it is best to take him with you everywhere, exposing him to as much stimulation as possible.

The early learning window closes at about four and a half months of age.  Before that time, even if you have a pup who is shy, you have the opportunity to turn this around by saturating him with new people and places.  You can’t overdo socialization!  If you are headed out for a quick trip to the store, take him with you!  Don’t think that you can’t be bothered.  Grab the pup and a leash and take an extra few minutes just to walk him through the parking lot.  Even short excursions will pay off big time in the long run.

Talking With Dogs

Til shows off some of his prizes from a Frisbee competition.

As I am moving back into my role as teacher, not only through an upcoming Tricks class at Borderhauss Kennels but as a certified CATCH trainer mentor, I'm realizing how much nonverbal actions and consequences go into my daily routines.  My thoughts are constantly on reinforcing behaviors that I like, eliminating ones I don't like.  There are very few random treats I give my dogs.  I am in the mode of thinking that no cookie goes wasted.  I am, in essence, a training machine.

While this might seem kind of sad, it puts communication on a whole new level.  I have had to reassess this, too, because now that I have my first border collie, I realize that I haven't made full use of the wonderful cognitive skills in dogs.  I no longer use the grunts and broken English reminiscent of an old Tarzan movie.  I use full sentences.  "Til, Nikita stole your toy and hid it in her cage.  You can find it in there.  Go get it out and bring it to me."

And he does.

I am talking to the border collie much more than I have to others, and the overflow extends to other dogs around him.

Now in house sitting for my friend Cindy while she's away, and caring for her two dogs, I am back to Square One.  The dogs, a Labrador named Nikita and a spaniel mix named Maggie, are both "amateurs" when it comes to the ever evolving "Bailey Method".  Nikita especially is completely clueless.  She is a big, tan, smiling, good-natured oaf, awkward and pushy in her affections.

I hold up a cookie.  "Sit."  I KNOW she knows this cue.  She just stands there grinning, ears flattened, whipping her tail back and forth.

At this point, I have another revelation that with rescue dogs, and dogs who have been randomly reinforced, it is better not to talk.  Their lives are filled with meaningless noise.  They tune it out.  So I revert back to my old nonverbal ways and simply hold the cookie back over her head.  She sits. I toss the cookie and she clumsily snaps at it.

With Nikita I would be back to Tarzan Talk for a little while, using the barest of verbiage, while she begins to grasp all over again that language really does have meaning, and to listen intently for more complex instructions.  As she got to know me, she would eventually start to pay more attention.

Perhaps even more importantly, I would have to learn how to listen to her.

Morning Oats

Well, what can one say after a long hiatus? I have let my blogspot fall into neglect... Alas... And unfortunately the past year has provided plenty to blog about. Clifford has toured the eastern part of the USA, visiting libraries, pet expos and yes, nursing homes. We are about to embark on hopefully our most exciting journey of all... But it will remain a mystery for now!

I have produced much art, including equine art. I am now immersed in what I call my, "acrylic phase." Here is the newest example, painted yesterday: "Morning Oats".  I will have some more originals for sale as the Christmas season approaches! If I have any excuse for not blogging, it is to say that Facebook took over. I have posted all new art on my facebook page, "Nancy's Art Studio" faithfully. Many of Clifford's adventures are on his Facebook page as well. One thing I realized about Facebook though, is that the archives aren't organized as a blog. You can post lots of photos and albums, but I am fond of the "journaling" aspect that a blog provides. I wish I had kept up on this more faithfully. Oh well... Lots more stories to tell and art work to blog about!

Today's Project - Border Collie

It's back to the drawing board with a border collie.

Here's the ebay link:
http://cgi.ebay.com/ws/eBayISAPI.dll?ViewItem&item=180320690808

Border Collies (or Puppies as Gifts)

I was having lunch with my friend Beth the other day. She's a biologist and very savvy dog trainer who is working with a few puppies on an in-home basis. She has a friend who lost an elderly dog and wanted a pup to replace it. The woman apparently was not an extreme "dog person", although she liked dogs well enough. So Beth found some adult dogs in the pound that were gentle natured and desperately in need of homes.

But the friend went to a breeder and bought two puppies instead.

"Littermates?" I practically gagged on my sandwich.

"Yup."

We both looked at each other and started laughing.

The friend had already broken at least one of the cardinal rules about the average person getting a puppy. Three of them are as follows:

1) Do not obtain more than one puppy at a time.

2) Do not acquire puppies, or give them, as Christmas gifts.

3) Do not acquire a border collie.

To us the reasons are obvious, but I'll go over them briefly.

1) One puppy alone is enough of a handful. But when two littermates go together, they will tend to bond to each other, cleaving only unto themselves, and forget you! You are in for Dog Training Hell.

2) Bringing a puppy home in the midst of Christmas chaos is the worst thing you can do to it. There is no chance for establishing a schedule, no time for real bonding, and no full attention that takes for early good house training habits. On top of all this, there are unlimited "goodies" like tinsel and plastic and chocolate to chew up and destroy, and vomit up or create large vet bills. Besides this, no reputable breeder would recommend bringing a puppy home for Christmas. If you have already reserved your pup, consider asking the breeder to keep it until the hubbub dies down.

3) Border collies should go only to homes that will offer the high-energy dog a consistent job like agility, herding or flyball.

A puppy is not a toy; it's a family member that will be around hopefully into its teens. Please be responsible enough to think about this when you're being charmed by those happy eyes and wagging tails.

Besides, it will pee in your house.