Week One

After what seemed like a very long wait, Jed has arrived. Over a year ago, I got on the list for a puppy out of Llona Brandenburg's Sweet, a daughter of one of my favorite sires, Stuart Davidson's International Supreme Champion, ##Star. In retirement he went to the stellar Canadian handler, Amanda Milliken, who used him on her deep bench of top-class bitches to produce some of the most successful Border Collies working in North America today. My former Moe is one of those dogs, and the main reason I chose to take a pup out of Sweet. If Jed turns out to be half the dog that Moe is, I'll be a happy woman.

Initially, Sweet was put to a Scottish import from Bobby Henderson named Shep. I am so familiar with his line, and was so excited about the cross, that I signed up for two pups, but the bitch didn't settle, and I had to wait. Next, with the help of veterinarian, Joy Thayer, Sweet was artificially-inseminated to Suzi Applegate's 2008 USBCHA Nursery Champion, Buzz. There were 3 males and 5 females as a result. Llona kept one of the males, and I had first pick of the other two.

"Breed for the outrun." That has been Amanda's premise all along, and her success in doing so is evident in all of her dogs, and their progeny. Llona delivered Jed to me one day when she drove the 60 miles or so from her home to work dogs with me. After schooling her young dog, she jumped Sweet out of the truck and we set up an outrun that was somewhere in the neighborhood of 500 yards. In a field completely unfamiliar to her, Sweet set out wide and fast, covering every square inch of that 100 acre field on the away-to-me side. Without so much as a hitch, she crossed a deep, brush-choked wash and rounded a low hill that obscured the sheep to land almost perfectly on balance and deep. I stood smiling as she quietly moved off with my stony Dorpers fetching them smoothly down the field. "Breed for the outrun," indeed.

Two days before Jed made the trip to San Diego, I traveled to Llona's home in Hemet to select my pup. It is said there are handlers who are able to deftly pick the most talented pup from a litter. I have no idea how they do it, but I believe they exist. I am not one of them, however, and settle for a crap-shoot every time. Then there is the school of thought that says "let the pup choose you." The instant I sat on the livingroom floor with all 8 pups loose around me, Jed ran straight into my arms, nestled his head between my ear and shoulder and began to tell me all about it in low moans. It seemed the decision was made for me and I was willing to go with it. I watched the others for a while, and Jed wandered off eventually sealing his fate by rushing back to the crook of my neck with just as much momentum as the first time. That was it. Decision made.

Star is the last puppy I raised and he is almost 2 years old as of this writing. I have forgotten what it's like to have a puppy around. Like child-birth apparently, you forget the sleepless nights, the whining, and the worry. Jed was up every 2 hours that first night, but by the end of the week had stretched it out to 4. At 8 weeks of age, he is sleeping in a crate in my bedroom, and has already learned to quiet himself fairly quickly once inside. He figured it out when I didn't respond at all to his ardent cries and mournful howling. I just left him to it, and patiently waited him out. I tell him "kennel," put him inside with a bit of kibble, and that's all there is to it. One way to teach a puppy to love the crate is to never leave him in too long. He gets lots of playtime and I take Jed outside to empty about every 2 hours, longer at night and if he is quiet. In that way he trusts that when he gets in, he will be allowed out before too long. Food helps too, but this pup is not my best eater, and I'm a little worried about it at this point. He tried cottage cheese and liked it, so that's how I'm getting kibble down him now, by topping it with cheese curd.

Jed's lessons began the minute I got him home. I began by using his name at every opportunity, and he picked up on that immediately. Always willing to look straight at me, he turns his head or cocks an ear when he hears his name. I use it a lot. If we're outside, and he runs to me, I clap my hands and say "Jed, here, here." That reinforces his name, and teaches him to come when he's called by putting a word to the action. It's never too early to learn good manners. Speaking of which, even at his tender age, Jed is never, ever allowed to put his feet on me. He hasn't seemed inclined to be touchy-feely, but this bad habit is so readily learned by dogs that it's never too early to begin deterring them. Dogs jumping up is a huge hot-button with me, because it is an overt sign of disrespect. If I want them to respect me working on and off the trial field, then they must respect me in all aspects of their lives. Better to start early, because once learned, it is very hard on the dog to talk them out of putting their feet on you. And it's so easy to do. Jed jumps up, I give an easy growl, shove him aside, and I repeat every single time he does it without exception. Consistency is the key, and I cannot stress that enough.

My mother taught me how to swim by throwing me in our pool. She expected I would not drown, and was right there to help, but it was literally sink or swim. I'm a really good swimmer. So it has been this week with Jed. He has gone where I have. I expected that he would follow, come when he was called and take walks with the big dogs. With one exception, he did not dissappoint. I put him in my quarter-acre dog yard to see how he would do, and he is just too small and just too young for that. Overmatched by the big dogs, he was intimidated when they howled at a passing fire truck, and he could not quite figure out his place in the hierarchy. I watched for a while, then brought him out to play on the lawn. For now, 6 pound min-pin Dexter is more his speed, and that's as it should be.