My Dad got his Scion xB back from the repair shop today.  Remember, he drove over a trailer hitch on Route 53?  Thought he was going to clear it…nope.  $3,000 in damage to the bottom of the xB, but, all fixed now.  My Dad kept referring to the rental Dodge Avenger as the essence of mediocrity.  So back to me, me as in CODY, the Border collie.  Most people have NO idea I am a Border collie.  I have been asked if I am a Dalmatian, an English setter, a (cringe) Springer Spaniel…some people look at me as if I am the second-coming of Godzilla, as they cross to the other side of the street, then keep looking behind themselves to see what I am doing.  If you see Border collies competing on AKC televised championships, you see the classical, traditional Border collie – black and white, perfectly coiffed.  Don’t get me wrong, they’re still GORGEOUS dogs (like all Border collies).  Here is where you have to pay attention.  The pictures below are of me, taken a few minutes ago.  (I HATE HAVING MY PICTURE TAKEN…USUALLY I WILL TURN MY BACK TO YOU OR JUST WALK AWAY…REALLY!)  I have lots of ticking, the area around my back end is almost pure white, as is my tail.  I have very symmetrical ticking on my front legs, my face is VERY interesting, and I have some pure white patches around my shoulders.  So, lets get to the pictures.  Don’t everyone hold your breath at at the same time.

Here is the right side of my face.  If you look carefully at my muzzle you’ll see the number 4.  My Dad calls that black swish to the left of my eye “warpaint.”  To the right are my very symmetrical front legs – lots of ticking.  Ignore the squeaky toy in the background.



Here is the left side of my face, the all black split-face…with some ticking.  To the right is my caboose, a light of plain white on the tail, my hips, and back legs.  All of the grayish ticking is where God meant me to be black, oh well.





And here, you can see my mostly white neck.  That’s my minion in the left background, Finnegan.  He treats me like the (subtle) Alpha-male I am.




Eeeeeeks!  What do I have to do to get some action around here?  My Dad has been sitting at the desk, he has several stacks of paper spread out….and I am feeling….ignored.  I’ve tried head-butting and that resulted in a short walk after breakfast.  But, tossing a BusyBone (registered trademark) right at My Dad got me nowhere.  Tossing the tennis ball du-jour right at My Dad got me nowhere.  Napping….napping….napping….more napping.  Mmmm…I am going to bore my audience if I don’t think of something.  Ah!  how about the trip to the vet on Monday?  OK.  But My Dad did not have his Scion xB.  Did I tell you about the loud BANG several weeks ago.  I was in the xB, My Dad was driving back from Rockford (big surveillance).  The Scion was northbound on Route 53 and I heard My Dad say the ‘F’ word, and a split second later there was a LOUD BANG under the Scion.  My Dad kept telling people about seeing a receptor trailer hitch with the ball hitch attached right in the center of the center-lane.  My Dad said that he thought he would clear it…nope.  Over three thousand dollars damage…two cross-members were displaced, a hole was punched through the floor pan, the plastic fuel tank was nicked (but not punctured), a heat shield was displaced.  Jeez!  Everyone My Dad talked to said we were really lucky.  So, My Dad does not have his Scion xB for awhile.  He has a light blue Dodge Challenger four door.  I got to ride in this light blue car to the vet – to get my Adequan shot, for my hips.  I walk in and the waiting room is packed with dogs.  But, you know me – Mr. Calm-Cool-Collected.  I walk in like I own the place.  I look every dog in the eye; the Boston Terrier with the bulging eyes, a very laid-back Flat Coated Retriever, a female BC mix who is thinking she’d like to bite me, a very bored female Mastiff, and some little hyper dog who just cannot be still.  I look at My Dad, lie down (automatically) and wait.  Another dog, a Doodle something, is drooling…yuccch…(DUDE, calm down).  They call me in (“Hi Cody, Hi Cody, Hi Cody, Hi Cody”), I get the shot (“He is SUCH a good boy!”)and we’re outta there (please get me out of here, get me away from all of these moronic canines). Wait, wait…My Dad is putting on his jacket, the jacket with the plastic bags in the left pocket, he just picked up a tennis ball…gotta go!Image


My Dad always dresses appropriately for the cold weather.  Around New Years, when it snowed for 45 hours straight followed by below zero (F) temps and wind, My Dad even purchased a pair of ski goggles.  Yes, without a doubt, he looked a little dorky.  But, he stayed warm and I got longer walks in.  As you will recall, I had a full ROUGH coat for the duration of the winter, so laying in the snow, eating snow, taking my time in the snow, was not a problem.  I did not get bothered by the cold.  Yes, I did get shaved down about two weeks ago.  My Dad calls me “tiny” and “little man” because I look much smaller after getting a puppy cut.  Hard to believe I am around 62 pounds.  All of the other dog owners know me by name and they have really been making a big deal over how I look and feel with my super-soft, gorgeous, luxurious, under-coat exposed for all to see, touch, and admire.  And speaking of coats, My Dad, took his hooded storm coat from the couch, where it had been in a state of readiness all winter, placed it on a hanger and hung it in the hall closet.  I gave him the look as he closed the closet door, “You absolutely sure about this?”  But with sunny skies, warm temperatures, and all of the snow GONE, My Dad was in a very good mood and even mumbled something about not having to put 23 pounds of clothing on – just to take me for a walk.  Hmmm…I don’t know if I like the tone of that.

This past Saturday the sky moved quickly from partly cloudy to a foreboding dark gray.  Lightning, thunder and HAIL in the late morning.  Take a look at the pictures of the hail.  On Sunday My Dad and I drove to Glenview to referee AYSO soccer.  Did I mention My Dad is a soccer referee?  Sometimes he puts me on-leash (I know, Cody needs a leash?) and lets me sit with the parents (he also calls the parents, “the peanut gallery”).  There are always a number of parents who greet me very warmly and do not hesitate to ask if I can sit with them during the game.  I’m cool with that…I get a lot of attention from the adults and their kids.  Oh, the leash thing…given the opportunity, I will chase the soccer ball – I am a Border collie!  Saturday ended with chilly, windy, wet, rainy conditions. Monday was WINTER, with high winds and SNOW – another inch and a half.  Yep, you guessed it…the storm coat is thrown across the couch in a state of readiness.



Yes, the Therapy Dog gig is volunteer.  But, we all have our REAL jobs, right?   I don’t think I’ve mentioned this yet…keep it on the hush-hush…My Dad is an investigator, a PI, a Private Detective…shhhhhh…I said keep it on the hush-hush.  Now I’m sorry I said something.  Keep it C-O-N-F-I-D-E-N-T-I-A-L…(ok?).  Anyway, I get to ride with My Dad when he is working.  I help him watch traffic, alert him to the hated delivery vans and automobile carriers.  Sometimes I get to go “undercover.”  We’ll be on a surveillance (gotta be quiet) or delivering packets of documents to people (who may or may not be expecting these packets).  My Dad will say, “Let’s go Codeman, let’s go work.”  And, we go for a walk.  Sometimes it’s just around the block (who is going to be suspicious of a Border collie out for a walk…right?).  Sometimes My Dad goes right up to a house, knocks on the door.  He tells me to act normal.  The people answer the door and My Dad tells these people that he lives over on the next block and some mail was mis-delivered (what?).  The people say, “Yes, that’s me, thank you.”  And My Dad gives them the documents, and we walk away.  (tough job)  And then, sometimes, My Dad wants me to turn on my “tough guy” personality.  Usually, some strangers (stranger-danger) are looking in our car and they don’t know My Dad and I are in the back behind these black curtains (on surveillance).  My Dad says the secret words (WHO’S THERE?) and this 60 pound Border collie becomes the PROTECTOR – I bounce up from behind the black curtain like some nightmare magic trick and give the strangers my DEEP tough-guy bark…I really let them have it.  You should see the look on their faces (BOO!).  My Dad says, “GOOD BOY.”  One great thing about working with My Dad is our stops at Culvers to get some (plain) hamburgers.  We have had this surveillance in Rockford, IL and part of my dinner has been TWO single burgers from Culvers…yum, so good.


Monitoring my Dad during surveillance.


Border Collie’s, at least the extremely gorgeous Border Collies, have ticking.  Take a look at Stella, from TEXAS SHEEP DOGS, on Facebook.  Take a look at THE BORDER COLLIE MUSEUM…just Google it.


I got a haircut today.  I walk in there and this moronic LabraDoodle, or something Doodle, is the first to greet me.  Does it look like I am overjoyed to be here?  NO…  So stand aside you drooling, over-exuberant moron.  I will not even waste the tiniest bit of energy to acknowledge your moron-ness.


So, ten months of fur are gone…revealing my gorgeous TICKING!  Look and be awed!ImageImage