Good friends are the rare jewels of life. Difficult to find and impossible to replace.
Holly was just that kind of friend. She lived on our farm for almost 17 years, and was there to greet us every morning. Holly was a Border Collie, and came to my husband, Dan, at Christmas time as a six week old puppy. Thus, the name Holly. She was mostly black, but had some white throughout her face and neck. Dan instantly loved her, and she became his constant companion. Me, well it took me a couple years to REALLY love her, because of her antics and energy.
As a puppy, she was adorable of course, as most puppies are. However, she was constantly in motion, jumping on everyone she met, whether they liked it or not. I can’t even count the number of things she destroyed with her chewing and digging. I was continually picking up after her messes, left in ragged piles or holes dug in the dirt or grass. When we would try to scold her or discipline her, she would just look at you with those big, brown eyes and seem to ask forgiveness. She was full of love and naughtiness at the same time! (Are there humans like that??)
As the days turned into months and years, Holly seemed to understand the rules of dog life much better. She still greeted everyone who came on the yard, but instead of jumping, just wanted to be near them. Sometimes, especially children, trying to lick them to death. She loved to run and play with kids. That changed a little these last couple years when she became irritated sometimes with little people touching her face or startling her from behind. She still loved to be petted and have attention if it was gentle.
Holly seemed tireless for many years as she followed Dan wherever he was. If he was leaning over a tractor or stretched out under a car or pickup to be repaired, she was right there beside him. She would follow him to every field, going up and down the rows, trailing behind the tractors, baler or combine. These last couple years when she seemed to tired to keep up the “following”, she still would go to the fields and keep watch at the end of the rows. Faithful would have been a fitting name for Holly.
Early on in her life she displayed signs of not liking loud noises. Gun shots within hearing distance made her stiffen up. When firecracker season came around, Holly was not in the mood to celebrate in that way either. Thunder and lightening scared her, and she would come into the garage for safety during storms. Otherwise, she rarely would step foot into an enclosed building. She loved her freedom in the outdoors, sometimes wandering in and out of a barn or shed, but only if she knew she could get out when she wanted to.
Because we milked cows most of Holly’s life, she was a valuable asset when the livestock would get outside the fence. She would immediately be “on it”, running to the problem area, barking and chasing them until they obeyed and went into the open gate or back over a fence. Until the last couple years, no squirrel or raccoon could move fast enough to get out of her reach. In her puppy years she pestered the cats, but she finally realized that they could live here in peace too.
These past couple of years Holly showed signs of aging. Her white color turned to grey, her legs moved slower, and she could be found sleeping more often. Slower days appeared, and like us, she “ran” less. She just didn’t have the energy anymore. I understand. Age has a way of changing our daily movement.
Last week Holly decided it was nearing the end of her life, and she quit eating and drinking for two days. She would still open those pretty brown eyes to look at us, but early one afternoon she went to her final sleep. Dan had been talking to her most of that morning while he worked on a car. The final time he checked, she was gone. His good and faithful friend. He got the skid loader, dug a hole in the grove, and carried her there to be buried. She is missed. The days don’t seem the same without her presence.
Our granddaughter, Lexi, texted and asked us to put a flower by her grave. We know the grandkids will miss her being here as well. Pets are a special part of the family. They will never be gone from our memory. The love that they gave us will always be in our hearts.
lbeeerman68@gmail.com
