The Mad Australian Shepherd and I are grieving the passing of my wonderful and Beloved Border Collie. The Boy (the MAS) is four - the BBC was twelve when the Boy came home as a pup. At the time I thought maybe one more year for my wonderful BBC - one more year to teach the ball of fuzz some manners and a little bit about how to be a proper quilting dog. "You better get that butt of yours on the ground if you want a treat" was easy - I could almost see the pup looking up at the older dog, asking what it was he should do to get the magic food. A little harder was the proper place below the sewing table - near enough to be close, not so near as to interfere. To his last day, the BBC refused to cede his place of honour as the dog closest to the machine - the dog in line with the iron. It's barely a week since he made his way to the Rainbow Bridge, and already, the Mad Australian Shepherd has taken his place. I don't know how they do it - nor for that matter do I know if they really know what they're doing- it's quite possible I'm reading everything into behaviour that isn't there - but I like to think the young Boy misses my Old Boy as much as I do. Sewing won't be the same for a while, so I'm busying myself with the work of setting up my design company and finishing up a few patterns.
And I'm learning how to post photos. That's next.
I must go. The Boy needs his walk. And I need to lose a little of this heavy heart in the rhythm of putting one foot in front of the other until I find myself back where I belonged.
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