The Concept of the Collar

   

     Having lived this once before, let me come right out and say it: I have a rough time putting collars on dogs.

     Last time it was Ike, (brother of Minsky). Such the independent little bugger Ike was. I feared his whole personality might change, given the thought of a collar made necessary once he began to scope out (read: pee on) the boundaries of my Nashville yard.

     Tonight it was deja vu all over again; this time: Rosebud (daughter of Rosey; sister of Hix) used to her pen, but now, like her brothers, likewise wanting to make her presence known. Between barn workers going in and out of the gates and neighbors with treats, she's allowed out from time to time and loves nothing more than a final romp of the back lots before bedtime to check for coyotes.

     While they are family to me, I do realize not all pup decisions should be made as if they are fully human, lest they all be eating at our tables and taking over our beds entirely...(even I draw the line somewhere). But with slight hesitation given how "I" might feel were I to be tagged, I made the responsible decision to tag her, which of course, requires a collar. 

     But here's what I found interesting...

     My resistance with Ike (and tonight, again with Rosebud) -- was purely my projection...After all, "I" wouldn't want a collar. If "I'd" been raised with no noose around my neck, I'd question one now, and I felt quite certain she would too...(as I once thought for Ike).

     But this was not the reaction of either pup. To the contrary...my most independent and dog-like dogs LOVE(d) their collars...The sound of that tag bearing their names, only making matters sweeter for their little independent spirit.

     Never in a million years did it cross my mind (me, thinking of collars as slavery...a thing that "leashes" you to an owner...something that "tags" you with a mark) that this collar would suddenly bolt baby Rosebud (smallest of my 4 and the one regularly jumped upon and growled at come feeding time) boldly into a new identity.

     Tonight for the first time, Hix didn't jump for his sister's food. Even TJ (the biggest of my big-headed bunch) backed off.

     For once, Rosebud--smallest of my lot, submissive of the fold-- held her own, holding her tail high, all but strutting about the pen with her "Rosebud" tag-a-clinking against the metal clasp of her  brand new reflective collar.

     Allowing her the full joy of this moment, I opened the gate, and watched her circle the pen, stopping to see if her favorite neighbor was home before heading back in.
     Of course, Hix has a tag too...But for one sweet moment I gave Rosebud her day in the sun (or night in the moon as the case turned out)... silently humming "We are women hear us roar!" As she made her way to the porch for her bedtime "cookie" she looked up smiling (I swear she was smiling)  as if to say,  "Lookout boys....I've been tagged! It's official: I AM somebody and I BELONG!"