Filed under: animals, dogs, love, pets, puppies | Tags: animals, border collies, dogs, love, pets, pickles, puppies, silly
people ask me all the time, “how did you come up with the name pickles?” this usually means they think its stupid or cute.
pickles is a silly name.
and she is a silly dog.
i have wanted a border collie forever. well, ever since i lost loki, my border chow. fascinating, fun and smart – the border collie. i held out for years, and once i realized cody bear was lonely and ready for a play mate . . . i made my move.
i had visited the border collie rescue site religiously, now i was really going to apply to adopt one. i had all these lofty celtic names picked out. pretty femme irish names, scottish towns, gaelic words.
then i met pickles…
one of 10 border collie mix puppies, i didn’t even notice her the first time i went to meet the litter. i didn’t bond with any of the 5 week old dogs. i knew i wanted a furry border collie, but they all had short hair. i knew i wanted a female, but none of them were standing out.
the next time i went back they were 6 weeks old. pickles and two other dogs stood out. she seemed to make eye contact more. while the other puppies would chew my shoe laces and jeans, she would look up at me. but…i still wasn’t sure. but she was one of the forerunners, and i had first pick.
i was driving around on work errands the next day, thinking of puppy names, questioning whether this was a good idea or not. the word “pickles” popped into my head. i called a. she thought it was cute. i called d. and she thought it was stupid. and she sounded really pissed i would think of such a dumb name.
the next day i went back to the foster’s house and i looked down at the little munchkin, at the time called ziggy, and i said, “hi pickles!” she planted her ass down looked right up at me, wagged her freakishly long tail and opened her mouth in a giant smile. i hugged all the puppies that day, took about 100 snaps, then it was time to go.
all the dogs were on the far side of the yard.
i shouted, “piiiickllllles! come say good bye to mama!” none of the puppies even turned around. . .
except pickles. she whiplashed turned and bolted at me. 6 weeks old. she came to a screaching halt in front of me, planted her ass on the ground again. smiled and wagged.
and that was it. i loved her. and she knew she was my dog. and she was silly.
short and stocky, she looked like a black and white, fuzzy rottweiler baby. when she ran, she looked like a tank. she would run full speed and wouldn’t be able to navigate around obsticles, so…she would just smash into them.
if she’s at class, she’s dead serious. on walks, too. but home, with just me and cody bear, she’s spastic. running around the yard with sticks, trying to eat cody bear’s feet.
she moans like an 80 year old man when she lays down, sleeps, gets comfortable, resents something. she is a grunter.
she plays with brooms and flower pots. she sleeps on my gear shift.
she’s pickles. sweet pickles. at times, briny. wiggly and warm.
7 Comments so far
Leave a comment