Earlier this summer I sat for six Australian shepherds – mom, dad, three offspring – so that their owners could go on vacation. Careful readers will remember that I have done this before and that one of the dogs, Willa Jean, is mine.
     Used to be mine?
     It’s complicated.
     And sad, which is why I haven’t told the story here before.

      I brought Willa Jean home as a puppy in February 2023 and named her for a Beverly Cleary character. From the beginning, she got along well with her people – my family and me – but was shy around strangers and other dogs. How shy? At first the only way she would walk is if I carried her a few blocks, set her down, and followed as she scurried home.
      She got over that but remained wary of other dogs and other people. At puppy school, she was the one who barked and lunged at her classmates, all of them sitting perfectly at their owners’ feet and giving her looks that said, “What’s up with you?” The puppy school trainer was optimistic, but two vets and a second trainer were less so. 

       I read all the books and doled out all the treats. I still think everything might have been fine if Willa could have stayed at the same puppy school. But I moved and could not immediately find a congenial training spot in my new city.   
      (Note: If you like dogs and want to make some money, consider a career in the canine-industrial complex.)  
      And so Willa continued to be smart and affectionate with family 

at home and a challenge elsewhere or with guests. Our walks were at odd times in remote locations lest she overreact to either dog, cat or person. 
     Still, I never thought she’d actually hurt a fellow creature – until one evening in November when she did.
     Rather than drawing out the suspense, I’ll just say that Willa attacked an innocent whippet named Snorkel, and now they both are fine. In Snorkel’s case, this required many months, vet visits and bills paid. Now I see her around the neighborhood sometimes and she greets me happily, no hard feelings.  

     As for Willa, I returned her to her birthplace the morning after the incident. At home in the country, she doesn’t have to contend with other dogs or people on busy sidewalks. She and her littermate, Theo, the one with the chew toy

in the photo, are best pals and happy to wrestle endlessly.   
     Do I want another dog? Looked at one way, Willa is still mine, she’s just “on extended vacation with her family,” as I tell my granddaughters. And occasionally dogsitting the pack almost fulfills my desire for canine companionship. If you're wondering, Willa does remember me, wags her tail with delight and rolls over to be belly-rubbed as soon as she sees that it's me. 
    This breaks my heart every time. In fact, I have to ghost Willa Jean when I leave her to return home. It was hard to say goodbye the first time, and it still is.