It’s time to cancel delivery of the newspaper.
Yesterday our beloved Border Collie “Tree” was euthanized. He had bladder cancer that spread to his chest cavity and into his lungs. I will miss him terribly. He was 12 years and eight months old. And up until the last month or so, had the spirit and spunk of a four-year-old dog.
In the summer of 2002 my wife’s then teen-aged son Danny pleaded with us to get a dog. One of his high school buddies had just gotten a pup from a litter, from a family nearby. They bred working dogs. I said “absolutely NO!” I remember the hurt when I lost my Husky/Border Collie mix many years ago, and I did not want to go through that again. I went to the Miami International Car Show; they went and picked up the dog.
Tree was actually the pick of the litter. The family had chosen to keep him. The little girl from the family named all the pups. He was named “Christmas Tree” because of the white mark on the back of his neck. It formed a perfect outline of a pine tree. We thought the name unique and kept it. We got Tree when he was about five months old.
Yes, he grew into his ears.
He was a trip: energetic, smart, compliant. Happy. Did I say energetic? He needed a job. As soon as he hit 10 months, we started Frisbee training. His job from then on was to catch Frisbees.
God, how he loved playing Frisbee. We would buy Frisbees 100 at a time. (Fastback print rejects from Discover the World, just over $1 each if bought in volume.) We would go every Saturday morning to be trained by a Freestyle National Champion, on how to train our dog. We also learned how to do the 40-yard toss, a two-minute drill rewarding points for catches, the longer the throw the higher the points, with a bonus point for being “four paws up”, off the ground at the catch.
We would play Frisbee before breakfast; before we’d leave for work; at lunchtime (my wife would drive home every day, a 30-mile round-trip to play with him); when Danny got home from school; when we got home from work; after dinner; and finally, up at the park under the lights before bed.
Between weekend training and Saturday and Sunday training for the long toss, and Freestyle sessions all day long, he was in incredible condition. His heart would pump so strongly that during routine exams the vet would almost always remark on how slow his heartbeat was. We are biased, but he really was a magnificent specimen of a Border Collie, around 50 pounds nearly all his life, mostly muscle, broad chest, very handsome. Long, long canine teeth.
His intensity at Frisbee training bordered on ridiculous. We kept him and his then stable mate (my avatar is a sketch I did of Tree and Leila) in two large crates in the back of our Honda Odyssey minivan. When it wasn’t his turn but he could see the other dogs on the field, he would bark and carry on crazily. He even bent the metal crate by grabbing onto it and pulling, trying to free himself to join the fun. And he played Frisbee with the same intensity.
From the beginning he made a wonderful connection with humans. Eye-to-eye contact, always ready to please. You’d call his name and he’d snap his head around, ears up, tail wagging, “What?” And he was always a very loving dog, ready to receive a hug, give a paw, wag his tail, give kisses.
I have seen many dogs with a huge vocabulary, and while Tree might not have been as well-trained as some you might see in internet videos, he did understand a huge number of words and phrases. It is true what they say about Border Collies. They truly are scary smart. You could see the wheels turning when we’d talk to him.
We taught him to get the newspaper from the driveway in two mornings. He already knew the “Pick it up” command from Frisbee training, so I brought him to the newspaper one morning, pointed to the paper and said “Pick it up”, and said “Paper”. I told him to “drop”, then repeated “Pick it up. Paper”, and pointed to it, a few times. Next morning we walked to the driveway. “Pick up the paper”. Third morning I opened the front door and told him “Go get the paper!” Wheels turned, he hesitated, looked puzzled, looked around, saw the newspaper on the driveway, and bolted to get it. From then on for about 11 years, every morning he got the paper and then got breakfast. It was one of his “jobs”.
In the afternoon you could set your clock by his stomach. On weekends when we were home it would start at 3pm daily. He’d stand by his bowl and bark. We’d say “you have to wait”. He’d slink off and we’d repeat that dance every half hour until dinner time.
When we first got him we crate trained him, since we knew puppies love to tear things up, and Border Collies have a HUGE amount of energy. He did great with that. After ensuring he was housebroken and demonstrated he could be trusted outside his crate when we were home, we started leaving him out. We had Berber carpeting in the living room. One day he discovered it’s really cool to grab hold of one of the carpet loops and pull. Hey, fun! Let’s do it again! By the time he was done he had pulled up about two square feet of the carpet – the first thing you’d see when you walk in the front door! Thanks to him, we ended up with hardwood flooring. Which he hated later as he got older since it was slippery.
Tree loved the water. We live on a 55-acre lake, and he loved playing Frisbee in it. He also used to love to dig for rocks. He’d walk backwards, scraping his front paws in the sand and when he felt a rock would dive for it and bring it up for us to throw for him. Which we didn’t because he’d try to catch it. And he did that with anyone he could convince to throw for him. We used to have to tell people to not throw it where he could catch it. We didn’t want him to break his teeth! He had an uncanny ability to bring someone a rock, especially at the beach, have someone throw it in the water, and find that same exact rock over and over, even in the surf.
He thought anyone that came to visit, anyone, strangers on the street, people at the beach (oh, he LOVED going to the beach!), existed solely to throw something for him to fetch. Rocks, bark chips, sticks. We’d be talking and he’d walk up to his new “victim”, drop something at their feet, and stare at it. Then he’d look up in their eyes, then back to the item. If he wasn’t acknowledged, he’d bark, pick it up, and move it closer to them. If he succeeded in engaging his victim, it was on! He would play until that person’s attention span was exceeded. He never relented. He literally would tear up his paw pads playing, if you let him.
He also loved to run, run, run. I’d take him for a bike ride, first on leash, then off-leash. When he was off leash he would “herd” me. He’d run up the right side of me about 50 feet ahead, stop, turn around, go behind me, then run up my left side head about 50 feet, stop, turn around, and do it again. So when we did this, he’d run about twice as far as I’d ride. To keep him from doing that I’d have to haul ass so he didn’t get that far ahead. And he’d turn his head and make sure he was ahead. His stopping and turning around, going behind would tear up his paws. Crazy dog.
I had always wanted a dog I could walk off leash. I was able to do that with Tree even near busy roads, although I really didn’t very often. I just knew I could. One time in our neighborhood we were on a walk and he saw a squirrel, and started to chase it. I yelled “Leave it!!” and he stopped dead in his tracks, looked back at me, and dropped his head saying “aw, really?”
As he got older he really mellowed, although it took until he was about seven years old to calm down. He still loved to play, was still a happy, happy dog, but finally relented on wanting to play Frisbee all the time. He became even more loving, enjoying sitting on the couch and snuggling. Every morning when I showered for work he would come into the bathroom, sit next to the shower, get hugs and a belly rub, and give kisses. It was a routine with him. He’d see me get my underclothes from the closet, know I was going to shower, and go right into the bathroom before I got there.
As I said, he had an incredible connection with people. I’d walk up, spread my arms like I’m about to hug him, and he’d pin his ears back submissively, lick his lips, wag his tail, and sit down to receive hugs. Which I did daily as often as I could. When we’d meet friends on the street a simple “go say ‘hello’” would release him and he’d go over, bow his head, wag his tail, and receive loving. Everyone he met loved him. And nearly everyone ended up becoming his fetch “victim”.
Tree also loved to play with our other dogs, most recently, our red Australian Shepherd, “Cody”. Nearly every morning, even as recently as only two months ago, he’d dive into his toy basket and bring us a tug toy. We’d say “go play with Cody”, and he’d trot over to him and present the tug toy, and they’d play.
He also liked toys that squeaked. All I had to do was say “Squeaker, Squeaker!!” and he run to his toy basket and find his favorite squeaky toy, and chomp on it for the longest time. We knew better than to ask him to do that if we wanted to actually carry on a conversation or hear the television.
In the last year he finally slowed down, a victim of old age. He received a senior wellness exam last summer and all was fine. This past winter he started slowing down even more, becoming a couch potato and sleeping a bit more. And finally in the last month, he was alarmingly slow, so we brought him to the vet where he was diagnosed with bladder cancer, with the cancer having spread to his lungs.
We are so going to miss him. His love of live, his constant happiness, his enthusiasm, his love for people, the connection with him, loving to cuddle.
It’s time to cancel delivery of the newspaper. RIP Tree, the World’s Best Dog.
