Baa - Ram - Ewe: Mac at work

We got to see Mac at his herding best while on vacation.

Fortunately, we had a camera with us.

Enjoy the slideshow…

Safe and restful sleep…sleep…sleep…

Not much to say about this. I think the grooming is wearing Mac out!

I found him in the hallway, eyelids open, eyes rolled up into his head, twitching and snoring. He didn't stir as I walked by. I actually had the Milk Bone in my hand already.

He didn't notice when I laid it on his snout, nor did he hear me get the camera. Not even the flash woke him up.

It was about five minutes later, when I was getting ready to upload this photo, that McAllister came to his senses. Even then, he pushed the biscuit aside until I made a formal offer of it to him.

The Molting o' the Collies Observed in Cheshire

For the past month I feared we were overfeeding McAllister. He just seemed to be, well—swelling. He was very substantial, let's say. Just a lot of beam presented to the world.

Then, at the Labor Day gathering my family has every year in Vermont, a rat terrier named "Cain" (yes, he probably used to have a brother named "Abel," but he took care of that) thought he'd stir things up by taking a nip at McAllister's ribs.

He came away with a mouthful of fur and a puzzled expression. McAllister didn't even flinch, nor did he grace Cain with any acknowledgment that he had noticed it. Cain didn't try it again.

Since he wasn't wearing Kevlar body armor, nor is he insensitive to touch, there had to be another explanation for why Cain's little teeth made no mark on our Mac. It was all in the fur. In particular, it was in the fur that seemed to be just popping off him that warm summer's afternoon. He had feathers!

All these tan and white "feathers" turn out to be McAllister's summer shed, come just a bit too late for him to be comfortable this year. I took a deep breath and brushed him thoroughly last evening—a two-hour-plus process.

Careful as I assuredly was, Mac wasn't so happy about it. Even though he really doesn't have much else to do, he kept hinting that there were flocks to get in, a coyote at the gate, fresh food being dropped by one-year-olds on the kitchen floor—all of which were much more important than his silly old coat. Didn't I understand that he needed to be free to attend to his duties?

Our little pas de deux resulted in a much more svelte collie and a 13-gallon trash bag filled with last year's undercoat. I was sorry to tell him this morning (wait for it…) we're not done yet. Still, he's much better off today than he was last evening.