Fare thee well Whiskey!

I first met Whiskey on the morning of January 6, 2007. Unable to give her dog the attention he needed, Kathleen had decided to find a good home for him. She got wind that we were looking to adopt a border collie so we agreed to meet and assess.

Love those brown eyes!

Hiking with Jim.

In the garden.

That's not a ball!

Whiskey walked into the house and promptly sat down and looked up at me, tail wagging. "Buddy, you're never leaving this house," I said to myself. Those brown eyes instantly melted my heart. It was a bitter sweet moment for Kathleen. She had found the good home for her beloved pet and now she had to part with him. With tears in her eyes she handed over Whiskey's belongings: two metal bowls and a bag of Pedigree dog food. "He likes buttered toasts in the morning." "Hhmm, I don't think so," I thought. The poor dog was seriously overweight. A new regime was in order for this eight year old pooch.

Summer haircut!

And a cowdog he was!

Whiskey quickly became part of our family. After only one reprimand, he learned to respect our felines: Portobella aka Bella, Isis and Earl. We often hiked the back fields together. He was obsessed with balls or anything that resembled one. The minute we stepped outside, he would look for a ball and immediately deliver it to our feet. If we didn't oblige, he would bark in protest, tail wagging with excitement. He had this uncanny ability to find balls in the most unlikely places, one of Jim's job site comes to mind! I'll never forget when he went missing down at the yacht club. Jim and I looked and called for him. We finally spotted him on the club house roof perched like a goat! Or the time I left him on the boat where, upon my return, I found him in my bed, head on pillow. I'll never forget a walk on the beach down at the Bluffs, his gentle snore, how he rubbed his face into his bed making happy sounds, how stubborn he was, playing double ball in the basement in E.G., how he loved to get up on the TV room sofa, the sounds he made when he ate his food or lapped up his water, the time he first jumped into the pond last summer, when he wondered off on Dad... I'll never forget this red head boy.

Best pals!

So long Whiskey.