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A sheepdog finds her name

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Dear Doggers,


A while back, Anne was coming up with “novelistic” names for fictional characters. One of her best was “Sharkey Tartlett”. One imagines Ms Tartlett would prefer “creative” lipstick shades.


One of the reasons we ended up with Fly was her habit of biting her previous owner’s husband. Fly is very jealous and it was touch and go with Anne. Fortunately Anne likes Fly and thinks she’s “interesting”. Fly’d be more “interesting” if she didn’t hate sheepdog trials but that’s another story.


She is, as her previous owner promised, “a good breeder” with an endless heat, endless stand and Fly isn’t particular. She managed to convince our castrated sheep guarding dog to mount her and – briefly – tie.


Anyway, we were out late Saturday night – didn’t get home until ten - and when we did, we invited our old, ailing dog Luke onto the bed for a “sandwich” (Anne on one side, me on the other, Luke on his back in the middle.


Luke enjoyed our attention, Fly did not. Angrily, she stalked around the bed. Lying flat all I could see was the erect tip of Fly’s outraged tail circling us like a shark fin circling a raft. When Luke got down, Fly took his place between. She would have loved full attention from me, but Anne and me? Glassy-eyed, she tolerated our affection for a few minutes before she jumped off the bed, uttering a warning growl as she departed.


Sharkey Tartlet.


Donald McCaig

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