Being wrong about some dogs

I have found that a lot of people have some preconceived notions about breeds of dogs.

Heck, even I do. I can't count the number of times that I've told people who want a border collie that they really DON'T want a border collie. I tell them border collies are energetic, possessed dogs with one goal in life: To work something. Anything. And if they don't have a job, well, they'll find one and usually it's something you don't want them to be doing.

Sometimes I'm wrong about breeds. And sometimes I'm really, really wrong.

Wrong. I still have a scar on my hand where a Lab bit me, and meant it, in one of our dog obedience classes.

And then there was Danny. The little muscle-bound whippet that came from the animal shelter showed me that all the people who were experts on whippets could be wrong. I was told to never take Danny off leash because he would chase cats, cars, rabbits, squirrels or whatever he could find. And he wouldn't come back.

Well, that little dog spent three weeks on a leash while the rest of my dogs were out with me every day, while I was feeding and just working around the barn. I finally said forget it, if Danny was going to run off, so be it.

He never set foot off of our property. And the chasing thing? Danny slept in a crate piled high with soft pillows and blankets for his short-haired little body, and every night at least a couple of cats were in there with the sweet little dog.

But I still almost always tell people who want a border collie to really, really think about it before taking the plunge, because the dogs can be psycho. Just ask me, I've had a few.

And like I said, I've been wrong. A very nice family that watched Jan grow up at my friend's sons' baseball games wanted one of Jan's puppies when they were born four years ago. They had never had a dog, and we tried to talk them out of getting a border collie as their first puppy.

But they wouldn't listen. And to top it off, they fell in love with the puppy we called Jack. This was an ornery little dog that we had named after a mutual friend, and he was everything a border collie was supposed to be, and everything a family getting their first dog didn't need.

Jack went home with them and guess what? We were wrong. Really wrong.

Jack goes hiking and camping and running with his family, and he's smart as a whip. He does what he's told; heck, he would make a great Labrador retriever he's so good.

Then there's Al and Ty.

Another friend also wanted a puppy from that litter of Jan's, and again I tried to talk her out of a puppy. But she also wouldn't take no for an answer.

Not only did she not listen to me, she ended up buying two puppies.

I just knew it would be a disaster. I had raised two puppies at a time before, and it was not fun. I remember Zeke and Len, the gangster duo, and Meg and Hope, two evil little sisters who were just positive I was put on this Earth to torment them.

The two puppies that really convinced me that raising two puppies at the same time might not be such a great idea were Peg and Jess. Man, were they bad.

So I told this nice lady buying two puppies was probably a bad idea.

Again, I was wrong.

Al and Ty are part of a loving family, and are wonderful, sweet dogs that pretty much don't do anything wrong.

I have learned from these people that maybe a border collie really was the dog they needed, because they are all darn sure happy with their dogs. And more importantly, their dogs are considered a part of their families.

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So I've learned to keep my thoughts about different breeds of dogs to myself, and try to enjoy the crazy breed I've chosen to live with. And they give me hope that maybe someday my dogs might, just might, be as good as those dogs.