Panic's First Year

One year ago, May 24th, we made the drive to a rural Indiana shelter to look at "Chester". All we had of him was a crappy petfinder picture; the shelter had no information on him. So, blindly, we went to get him.

But sometimes you just know. As soon as I saw his picture online, I knew. It wasn't even his looks, since in the picture all I could see was a bushy, matted, almost barbie-collie looking boy with no ears. A far cry from the smooth red girl I had in mind as my perfect dog. Nevertheless, when I saw his picture I thought, "Oh, that's my dog."



So, in light of our situation with Toby, one that had prevented me from having a border collie for two years that I had been looking for one, we where going to pull Chester from the shelter and foster him for MidAmerica Border Collie Rescue.

As we drove up to the shelter I saw him, tied to the fence for some reason. My mother went to get his paperwork, and I went to see him. He was...apathetic. Looked at me briefly but overall didn't notice me. Or anything. He had completely blank look in his eyes, like he really didn't care about much. The long line he was tied to had become twisted around his back legs really tightly, so he couldn't move. I untangled it and he didn't pay me any mind. I walked him around for awhile, tried to give him a few treats or have him acknowledge me, but he didn't. We put him in the car and drove home, stopping for a McDonald's cheeseburger on the way back (for him, not us).

Chester is the stupidest name ever. On the way back I mulled over some names. I remember wanting to name him Sniper (and I still totally want a dog named Sniper) but my mom didn't think the rescue group would like that very much. I settled on Panic. (Ironically, a few months after we had him, a big argument got started on the rescue message boards over the name Panic.)

Panic was nothing like I had expected. His apathetic attitude towards life didn't change when I brought him home. His one and only interest was sniffing around the yard and peeing on things. The only glimpse of emotion I saw out of him was when I came home from school every day to find his crate and everything surrounding it completely in ruins. Luckily summer break came along, so I could dedicate all day every day for almost three months to figuring him out. Our "training" consisted of me hand feeding him his meals kibble by kibble, and sitting on my porch with a clicker and some meat, waiting for him to just look in my direction. He was the blankest slate I have ever seen. He didn't even know how to learn.

Things started progressing. Slowly at first, but then he really started to catch on. Shaping was definitely his "thing". He really became a master. We started agility training soon after, another thing I thought he was catch onto quickly. Well...not exactly. Panic was not a natural athlete by any means. Clumsy doesn't seem to describe it just right. But he sure did have enough enthusiasm for twenty dogs!

I could go on and on about how tough it was for us, how frustrated I got, how often I thought I was in over my head. But Panic is my perfect dog. He is so difficult, he frustrates me to no end, throwing problems I couldn't even dream up at me. He is absolutely brilliant and at the same time extremely goofy. I don't believe in fate, but it is amazing how a certain series of events can lead you to the perfect place in life. How is it possible that I found him?

This has been an amazing year. Here's to many, many, more with my brilliant boy.