Happy Tail

Karla here: I submitted this to the Petfinder.com "Happy Tails Contest." Maybe we'll win free tick medicine. Yippee skippee!

I have a happy tail. In fact, it is so happy that sometimes it whacks against the wall. Other times, it travels around in a circle. Sometimes I am so happy that my whole body wiggles. I know I must look silly, but I can’t help it. I love it when my family comes home!

I first met Karla and the kids a year ago at the Bergen County Humane Society in New Jersey. She had seen my picture on Petfinder.com. I was the exact size, age and breed that Karla was looking for: A one-year-old smooth collie mix. She and the kids gave me nice pats, but I was very busy with all the animal smells at the humane society. I didn’t really know what was going on, but next thing I knew I was jumping in a new car for a ride! Thankfully someone had already loaded my crate in there, because it was a long ride. I was glad to be in my safe bed.

I had a lot of time to think on that ride, and I figured out that my new job must be to protect this new lady and her puppies—she calls them children.

When we finally got out of the car I met John. Boy, was he scary! He has a deep voice and very short fur on his head. Thankfully, I knew just what to do: Get between him and my little flock and bark. That turned out to be a mistake. It seems that John is actually the leader of the pack. Oops. At first I thought that I would get to be the alpha (even though I am female). Frankly, though, I am relieved that someone else is in charge. John is a good boss, but I still keep a close eye on him.

John and I have made great strides in our relationship. He takes me for a walk almost every evening. It is heaven. Sometimes I have to remind him that it is time for our walkies. Dad complains when I come talk to him, but I think he secretly likes the attention. Now when I see Dad, my tail starts whooshing around instead of stopping dead in the air like it used to!

Growing up in New Jersey, I had the privilege of running free in the fenced yard whenever I wanted to. Here in Connecticut, I get to run around in the yard too, but every morning Mom puts a leash on me so that I can pull her around the block. At least that’s what I thought the leash was for. For some reason it makes her really happy when I walk right next to her, so I try to cooperate. I love taking walks. There is so much to smell!

Lately, Mom has been running with me. Personally, I trot. If I actually ran, Mom could never keep up. It is so much fun to jog with her that I don’t even bother with sniffing!

A few times I have tried to get out and have a good adventure. On those occasions I had the added excitement of playing a game of chase with the family. They didn’t look very happy playing chase, though. I can’t imagine how anyone could be unhappy while playing my favorite game. Boy, were they glad when I came home.

Another favorite game of mine is one the children and I invented. It is called “Gotcha.” They tap me on the face and run away. I leap after them and pretend to get them back. We could run around in circles playing Gotcha all day!

I also have a new brother here in Connecticut. He is small, black, and stealthy. The family calls him Black Beauty or simply, “the cat.” We get along pretty well, although he never seems to want to play tag when I do.

He thinks I don’t notice when he saunters up to the children. He may be my brother, but he might be up to no good. Thankfully, I have averted any disasters by barking loudly whenever he lures one of the kids into sitting down next to him and petting him.

This winter, mom made me my very own coat! She is relentless with the walks, even in bad weather. The coat keeps me warm and dry. And I must say, it makes me look quite stylish. You can learn all about it in this February post.

I can see why this family needed me. They are the victims of daily attacks. A man comes up to the house every day and tries to make trouble. Sometimes he even has the nerve to put letters inside the door. Obviously, he is no match for me. All I have to do is bark at him and he leaves. The odd thing is that it is always the same man and he wears the same blue outfit everyday. You’d think he would learn.

I have a lot of nicknames. The latest one is “Lurch.” On one of my first walks, a neighbor called out and asked if I was a Lurcher. Thinking he was referring to the way I was yanking her arm out of the socket, Mom replied. “I guess so!”

It turns out that Lurchers are a very old type of dog bred in England. Gypsies cross-bred Greyhounds and Collies for smart, fast companions. Even though my paperwork says I am a Collie-German Shepherd mix, Mom noticed that I act like a hound. I thought all dogs walked with their noses glued to the ground. And who cares about playing fetch? I’d rather chase small animals or whip my fabric toys around in my mouth. Everyone we meet says I look like a Greyhound. So Mom is doing some research. It looks like I might be a Lurcher, but there are no records to prove it.

At first I missed my old family. But I am very glad that I am not making that poor little boy in New Jersey wheeze and cough anymore. I think we are both happier with the way things are now. I am really glad that my new Mom found out about Petfinder.com and was able to adopt me.