Whenever the dogs and I go out, we have to pad in extra time to account for people needing to stop and coo at the Sheltie brigade. They elicit smiles wherever we go, and have been known to stop traffic a time or two. It’s a “joke” of mine that I could rob a bank with my puppies. The bankers wouldn’t be able to describe me. “I don’t know what she looked like,” a teller would report to authorities, “But she had the most adorable dogs.”
As it has been since I was 16 when I got my first Sheltie, a tri-female I cleverly named “Trinity.” She was my first of what has been a long, unending line of fluff buckets who prance and bounce upon any path before them.
As I type this, Punkin, my newest Sheltie, lays on my feet, in bed. She’s a “real woman” today, beginning her first period. I slipped on a diaper, with a well-placed hole cut to accommodate her tale, so she won’t dribble her moonflow on the bed as we sleep. She doesn’t always sleep with me, but she asked via uppies the second I crawled into bed.
I would never deny her.
I get asked a lot about my Shelties, and have since my first one danced her way into the hearts of strangers. Shelties are often confused for collies, which are much larger and actually a different breed. No, you’re not creative for pointing at them and making a Lassie reference. Please stop doing that. I’m tired.
Grooming shelties
I’m asked, “Do you have to brush them a lot” and yes, I should. Do I always? No. Do I feel bad for not attending their grooming needs as often as should be done? Yes, because right now Sailor looks homeless.
Are they high energy?
Is another question posed to me. Most of them, yes. I had a few high energy Shelties, and now I have one who’s chill and one who’s chill when it suits her. They run the gamut. A lot like Golden Retrievers in that way. You either get one who is more stoner or one who is more stimulant. There doesn’t seem to be a middle ground. Give them a job to do, you’ll thank me later.
Here my two are, wrestling one and then the zoomies hit.
Sailor is chill. He’s there to hang. To be. To nuzzle and nest, get loved and adored.
Like Ken’s job is “beach” Punkin’s job is fetch. Just fetch. It doesn’t matter what it is. A spent toilet paper roll, a water bottle (sometimes even if you’re still drinking from it), or sticklets. Little chunks of wood that aren’t really full sticks but aren’t bark either. She demands they be thrown for her.
When it’s hot but you have a dog obsession problem
I once thought, after moving to Texas with three dogs (one who I lost a week after moving) that I wouldn’t have anymore Shelties. It’s hot here more than 9 months out of the year. The stickers are enough to make me suicidal. But after getting Daisy and Dozer, who are actual dogs for real, like DAWG DOGS, I realized I would never not have Shelties. When I was down to just one, Margo (my soul dog), I knew I would always have one of these fluff pixies in my life. Nothing comes close to them.
I miss them so much.
Shelties hit unlike any other dog breed I’ve encountered. They’re attentive, soft, playful, loyal, gentle to a fault. My shelties love everyone. They’re not dog aggressive, they’re not people aggressive. They’re squishy love magnets who want, more than anything, to spend time with me. But they do prefer that I’m doing what they want: walking, playing ball, the water hose game, and making sure dinner is exactly on time (if not early) ,are a few of their favorite things. If you’re wondering.
That’s the short answer: I love these dogs. I adore this breed. We just make sure to get our walks and plays in before the hot weather steams in. And they go everywhere possible with me when there’s air conditioner aplenty.
For me, they’re so much more than pets. They’re my babies, my little shadows on whom I have grown dependent.
Speaking of my Shelties…