Free Chaser by John W. Pilley

fence a foot in front of us. She wasn’t cowering and didn’t seem distressed, but she showed no inclination to engage with the dogs as they came to a stop at the fence, barking in excitement. “It’s okay, girl,” I told the puppy, stroking her side. “These are nice dogs.” They were the first dogs she was exposed to besides her own kennel mates, and it was vital to socialize her so that she was comfortable around other dogs.
    The little bulldog and the big mixed breed sniffed through the fence toward the puppy. She remained motionless. The neighbor dogs bounded back and forth in front of the fence, bowing their legs in play postures. The puppy stayed very still, and looked back at me as if to say she’d had enough of this encounter. But then the neighbor dogs started racing back and forth along the fence, and that excited the puppy to race back and forth with them.
    I stood up and let them race. The puppy could barely cover a quarter of the length of the fence in the time the big dog took to run to the end and turn back to run the other way, and even the little bulldog was too fast for her. But the puppy plainly loved to run. Her exhilaration made me smile.
    As the big dog barreled back along the fence, Puppy tried to turn around in midstride to run beside him and tumbled to the ground. I quickly stepped over to her, but she was back on her feet, grinning, before I got there. The neighbor dogs stopped running and came to the fence again to sniff, and this time Puppy trotted over to the fence and sniffed back, nose to nose. That made me chuckle and tell them all, “Good dogs! Good dogs!”
    I heard my neighbor calling the bulldog and its big companion to their breakfast, and they were off like a shot. “Let’s go inside too, Puppy,” I said. She turned from the fence at the sound of my voice and walked along beside me up our sloping backyard to the house. The back porch steps were too high for her, so I picked her up and carried her inside.
    In the kitchen I held the puppy in my arms and saw her eyes slowly closing and then blinking open. She had tremendous energy, but racing the older dogs had worn her out for the moment.
    I put her down by the water bowl to see if she wanted a drink. She did, and I quietly repeated, “Drink, drink,” while she lapped up some water. Thirst slaked, she was more than ready for a nap. I led her over to the new dog bed in the living room and encouraged her to lie down. I praised her as she did, and then contentedly watched her eyes close and her breathing deepen as she fell asleep.
    She was a beautiful puppy inside and out. Her coat, more white than black, might not be the most favored for a Border collie. A mostly black coat stands out from the sheep better when the farmer is at a distance. But she was a pretty puppy—there was no doubt about that. The white parts of her coat had hints of mottled gray, which would likely become more pronounced as she matured. She had hazel to brown eyes, depending on how the light hit them. Her eyes shone, and I saw there her enthusiasm for life and interacting with Sally and me—and, I thought, keen intelligence.
    Sitting beside her as she napped, I thought about the behaviors and characteristics she’d displayed so far. Her responsiveness to subtle changes in the tone of my voice, especially when I encouraged and praised her, her fast-increasing ability to maintain attention on me, her slight hesitation in chasing the third squirrel and her pulling slightly less on the leash during the rest of the walk—all these things suggested both that she had a quick mind for learning and that we were building a strong bond between us. What excited me even more was how quickly she seemed to be attaching meanings to “here,” “out,” and “do your business,” associating the sound of each word or phrase with an appropriate action on her part.
    The puppy was a long way from