got border collie?

It all began with a bird by the side of the road. A baby towhee perilously close to the rumbling wheels of the weekenders returning home along Skyline. We stopped and started to search, without luck, for the nest it may have come from. This was the second time I'd found a roufus sided towhee on a busy road and had been advised by the wild bird centre that if I couldn't find a nest and the young bird was in danger, to bring it to the local humane society and they would transfer it to a bird sanctuary and it could be released at a later date. Susie looked at me with that familiar 'not again' look and we headed down towards Peninsula Humane. Roxy and Riff Raff, fresh from their adventures by the creek and under the redwoods, were barely awake in the back seat. They wouldn't have cared anyway. They both came into my life in similar ways, to this bird. Riff Raff found in a gutter off Fruitvale Avenue in Oakland, and Roxy at the end of her holding period at animal control.

We dropped the bird off and before I could stop myself, I asked a question I had begun to ask casually at every shelter I visited. 'Got any border collie pups?' A staff member eagerly responded 'we haven't, but I have a friend who is having to euthanise her 6 month old border collie because he bit the kid'. This didn't sound promising. 'I would have bitten the kid too' she added, so over Susie's strenuous objections I took the phone number, intending to put it in the garbage on the way out.

That was in May 1996. Frankie had been alive for six and a half months, and had been adopted by a woman and her 4 year daughter after they became enthralled with the movie 'Babe'. The mom managed a motel in the Outer Mission and was looking for a guard dog plus babysitter for the kid. The pup was overweight, timid, and reeked of shampoo. I talked to the mother about what happened between her kid and this beautiful pup whom they had bought from a puppy mill breeder at 8 weeks of age. As we were talking I looked over at the dog, laying dutifully at the feet of the child. And the kid - was kicking him in the back. She was barking instructions at him, handing him toys and then ripping them from his mouth, so hard she dislodged a tooth from the pups mouth, and kicking him - rhythmically - with a sweet smile on her face.

Frankie left with us that day - and joined Riff Raff and Roxy in the back seat of the red car.

The story of why I gave him back to them two weeks later is still baffling to me: how the family changed their minds, how they pleaded, cajoled, begged to have him back, how they were going to give him to another family member who would run with him each day. And when I finally relented and they picked him up, the look he gave me as they loaded him into their car and drove away is not one I will ever forget. It was the look of an animal abandoned to hell. He knew it even if I didn't.

I began to beat myself up over the decision 30 seconds later. I knew I had done a terrible thing. I couldn't sleep, I felt the strongest sense of having betrayed an animal, and it brought back all the nightmares of the many animals my family had left over the years when we moved. And my mother, knowing that all the cats and dogs would come to me if I called them had used me to fetch them for dispatch. Sometimes I wished they would just make a run for it.

The phone started jangling at around midnight. We ignored it. But it wouldn't stop. Finally I picked it up and the mother screamed at me 'What have you done to this dog? He is trying to bite all of us, we can't get near him. You need to come and get him'.

30 minutes later, barely dressed, Susie, Roxy, Riff Raff and I were outside the motel. In the room a family of angry people gathered. Frankie stood, disgraced, shaking in a corner. I had the collar I had bought for him and showed it to him and asked him to come. His tail started a low, quiet swish between his legs, he moved slowly towards me and pushed his head between my legs and waited for the collar to be put on. I attached a leash and asked him if he wanted to come with us, and his head reared up and I have never seen so broad a smile on a dog.

That was the last of the motel, and the four old abuser.

My life with Frankie has not been easy. He was terrified of small children and bared his teeth if they came close, he was afraid of most dogs and bit many of them, though rarely breaking skin, he herded some - but not all - of my cats mercilessly, he barked like a border collie - sharp, high pitched, frequent. He adored adult people and was fiercely territorial of them around other dogs. He once fell out of the car through an open window while I was gently driving along a dirt road, he once fell off the back of a convertible, he once had to have stomach surgery to remove a piece of tennis ball, he once jumped out of the back of Aida's pick up truck while it was parked because he saw food in the gutter and we didn't even notice until we got home. But when we returned to the same spot, there he was - waiting. He loved the redwoods and the creek at Mary's house, he was happiest chasing balls on a lawn, he loved to hike for miles along a beach, or on the trails in the hills or wander the Albany Bulb with me and the others.

I have often wished him gone. When he bit another dog I threw him on the ground and screamed at him, he has bitten me and growled at me, someone once threatened to call animal control on me to report me for abusing my dog. I gave him the phone number and said 'go ahead, tell them it's Jill and her border collie'. Frankie was legend as the border collie least likely to win any congeniality prizes. Much like his owner. Me. I absolutely fuckin' adored him.

And yesterday, I had him put to sleep. And you all know what that feels like. It's no different whether you have one or twenty animals sharing your life (and for all of you who worry - I don't have anywhere near that number!)

Why is it that I am dreaming border collie pup right now?

Comments

[Deb in Minnesota]

Those are great photos of Frankie. He had a great friend in you.

[Gillian]

RIP Frankie. He actually always had the common courtesy to tell you what he was going to do before he did it - you just had to be paying attention.
Looking at the last picture, I see little Emily in there too - another 'problem' dog by no fault of her own. Have you heard how she is doing lately?

[susie fought]

just now found this one. strange i didn't get it in my email box... beautiful jill. made me cry.

susie

[JP]

yeah, I miss him. Very much.
Gillian - Emily is miraculously doing well with Jen who adopted her. Thanks for all your help with that particular little psycho.

[debra]

Oh Jill. I am so sorry and understand the pain.

I happened across your blog looking for info on the Milo shutdown. I put down my wonderful Milo border collie mix on July 27 due to a deterioration in her behavior. Always fearful and aggressive to dogs that escalated at 18 months old, taking her for walks could be wonderful or horrible. We absolutely could not go to a dog park or hiking or swimming. For almost 5 years she kept the peace between my two male cats, laying on the couch with us to watch TV or sleeping on the floor near them and then in May tried to kill one of them breaking his jaw. She was suddenly fearful of odd things, where except for dogs she had never been afraid of anything. Her behavior at the door became frenzied, frightfully so and then she bit me one morning when I did not throw the ball when she wanted it. I had worked with Pia McGovern for a year trying to settle her around dogs. She tore her ACL and she had TPLO surgery. Pia left the country and I was left in a lurch. People would look at Jelly and say: PIT BULL rather than the border collie/lab that she was supposed to be. She swam and retrieved like a lab. I have seen pit bulls swim--they can't, not really. I brought in a rather noted trainer that specializes in pit bulls, runs pit bull rescue, trains them as service dogs, and is certified for treating aggression. She knew my dog had fear aggression issues. She showed up with unaltered male dog urine on her pants (she said). Spend an hour at my home, never touched Jelly or came near her. Declared that Jelly had no pit bull in her whatever--definitely border collie mixed with shepherd or American bull dog, but possibly lab. Spend a lot of time talking about how wonderful pit bulls are and border collies aren't. Had me walk Jelly in circles and as she turned and walked away from us, I heard her mutter, "You've got a big problem." She said she was seeing unstable excitement that could transfer into human aggression. Jelly had always loved people, although was cautious with strangers at our house for a short period and then would settle down. The trainer left with my check in hand and Jim and I looked at each other and said, "what the hell was that?" I contacted the Dunbars. They said I was too far away for them to work with me (san jose, and I would have driven any distance). My friends were adamant that Jelly should be put down. The pressure was unwelcome and I have trouble just being around them now. Jim has cancer and is taking chemo. He just could not get bitten. I felt so adrift and blown off as far as getting help. Jelly was the centerpiece of my life and what I did just feels like murder and I am a mess. Still.

[Jill Posener]

Debra

Thanks you so much for sharing this. I am so sorry. If there is anything I can do - I'm not sure what - but please contact me any time.

[Pam Fanning]

Amidst the pain, try to remember what stands out to me most: how he came back to you, after you felt he was gone for good, doomed to a life of hell. What an unexpected gift that ringing phone gave you. Really, a tremendous gift that he came back to you, and to the love you were to give him in the years that followed.