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The two little old ladies were charming. Actually, from my now-advanced age, I realize that they weren't such "old" ladies after all. Sisters, Miss Emily White and Miss Loretta White were immaculately dressed in crisp cotton slacks and blouses with lace at throat and wrists, Emily in blue, Loretta in yellow. I had an ad in the paper and they were here to look at a puppy. This was one of my first litters. Having fought the "We won't consider anything but a sable" battle when selling the pet puppies from my first two litters, I had been delighted when the Misses White had said over the phone, "It has to be a blue merle."

This was a good litter; I was very proud of the three little fellows and two girls. They were from one of the first High Born/Pow backcrosses, having been sired by Am.Can.Ch. Banchory High Born (not yet a ROM) ex Banchory Silver Fanfare, a daughter of Am.Can.Ch. Cherden Sock It To 'Em (not yet a ROM), whose dam was by High Born. One thing I loved about the litter was their intelligence. One little blue fellow, whom I was calling "Matthew," was a standout in that department. Matthew was calm, steady, and very, very bright. I considered keeping him for performance, but at the time was working closely with Duncan, and hoped to place Matthew with someone who would appreciate the extra dose of intelligence. In thirty years with this breed, I have been lucky enough to have four Sheltie "geniuses," and Matthew was one. Prick ears and high tail carriage, plus not enough bone, kept Matthew from being a conformation contender, but he was a beautiful color of blue, with a lovely head, neck, balance, and good structure. At nine weeks, Matthew was an adorable little blue fur-ball, with oh-so-bright eyes.

The Misses White explained that they had had a blue male Sheltie from the time he was six weeks old, "Billy," who had lived to be sixteen years old. They were now looking for another blue fellow to brighten their lives. They had a fenced yard, a dog bed, many toys, a good veterinarian, and were both retired, hoping to spend many happy hours with their new friend. Both ladies were witty and full of fun, with that slight touch of silliness that Shelties respond to so well. They laid gentle hands upon my dogs, who reciprocated with wags and shoves of their noses, even fussy Ballad. I was thrilled. This would be the perfect home for Matthew.

Then the questions began. "Does he have a white stripe down his face?" "Yes," I said; "let me bring him out." "No, wait," said Miss Emily. "Does he have blue in one eye?" "As a matter of fact, he does," I responded. "Does he have a white tip on his tail?" "Yes," I said, "but most Shelties do." I was beginning to be concerned about this list of requirements, so I left the room and came back with Matthew.

When I put Matthew down on the floor, I heard a distinct gasp from both ladies. "Oh!" Miss Loretta said. "This might be the one!" Matthew stood foursquare, wagging furiously. Miss Loretta dived into her purse and came up with two photographs, much worn. "This is Billy," she said. I looked at a plump, fuzzy blue male with a face blaze, prick ears, and quite an old-fashioned head. Loretta handed one of the photos to Emily, and they proceeded to examine Matthew with great care.

At last, Miss Emily said, "No, I am afraid he is not the one. He doesn't have black on the back of his left hind leg, and he has a black spot over his left eye, not over his right eye." She handed the photograph back to Miss Loretta, who placed both photos back in her purse. "Oh, dear," Emily said. "This one is SO close. May I hold him?"

"Of course," I said, and sat quietly while both ladies petted and hugged little Matthew for some time.

"Well," Emily said, "We must be going now. Thank you very much for letting us look at Matthew. Do let us know if you have another blue male in the future." There were tears in her eyes.

"Wait," I said, "are you trying to find a blue merle that exactly matches Billy's color and markings?"

"Yes," said Loretta. "It has been very hard. We go to the library to check the newspapers every day. We have responded to every ad in the state offering blue merle males."

"But blue merle markings are random," I protested. "You get basic family pattern resemblance, but I cannot imagine ever finding two merles with the same exact merling pattern, let alone the pattern of white markings, and the pattern of eye color."

"That is why it has taken so long," said Emily, and there was pain in her voice.

I was beginning to understand the tears, the expressions of aching regret I saw on their faces. "How long," I asked, "have you been looking for another Billy?"

"Fourteen years," said one of the ladies. "Good-bye, dear. It was nice meeting you."

I held Matthew close under my chin as I watched their sedan disappear down Rudasill Road. Fourteen years! Fourteen years when they could have had a merry little fellow scattering sunshine into their lives. Fourteen years of love and security for a small fur-fellow, all wasted in the search, a lifetime of love for a dog. Tears stung my own eyes, and I looked down at Matthew. "You are going to have someone who wants YOU," I told him.

Two weeks later, I found them: Rich and Cathy. Matthew became "Sage," and traveled to Ohio to make his home. For years I heard stories of things Sage did, and how much he was appreciated. Even after thirty years, this story remains in my memory. Sage had a number of toys. He was allowed to bring his toys into the living room to play. One of his favorite toys was a stocking, and he carried it everywhere. However, Sage also loved to chew on large beef bones, but was not allowed to bring those into the living room, where they would spoil the carpet. He loved to be in the living room with the people, and wanted to bring his bones in there to chew on while his people talked, read, or watched television. Sage tried sneaking the bones in, but was caught every time and taken back to the kitchen. One evening his owners noticed Sage carrying his sock behind one of the armchairs. A few minutes later, the sound of gnawing was heard from behind that chair. Investigating, Cathy found Sage and his forbidden bone, the discarded stocking nearby. Then Cathy remembered that the stocking had stuck out rather oddly the last time she had seen Sage with it, as if it were stiff, defiant of gravity. She took the bone back to the kitchen, went back to what she was doing, but kept an eye out for Sage. Presently, Sage appeared in the doorway, carrying his stocking. It looked odd. Yes, suspicions confirmed! Sage had very carefully draped the stocking over the bone, hiding it completely, so he could smuggle it into the living room!

Matthew got his good home, people who loved him for his whole life, and appreciated his extraordinary intelligence. I wonder if the ladies ever found their new Billy.

I have placed Sheltie puppies over a period of 30-plus years, and I am always amazed at how people are taken with color and markings. I have even had people tell me, "We don't care what he acts like. We want him to match our couch!" Needless to say, one of my puppies did NOT go home with those people! A puppy is not a decorator item (and what if they should redecorate?). The Misses White obviously had loved Billy very deeply, and yet they did not mention even one personality trait Billy had possessed that they might be looking for in their new Sheltie. Was Billy gentle? Was he rowdy? Did he cross his front legs? Did he try to herd people? Did he like to play games? Was he affectionate? Billy must have had extraordinary character to inspire devotion that lasted more than ten years after his death. Yet when trying to replace Billy, the sisters were fixated upon appearance alone.

Of course, one should never try to replace one dog with a replica, because the new dog will never be what the old one was. To expect this will only bring disappointment. It is not fair to any dog to expect him to be a copy of another, and is simply impossible. Many times an owner will forget that Billy had months of constant training and correction, and will expect the new Billy to housebreak and leashbreak himself because he looks just the same! The new fellow cannot help but fail, and is always in the doghouse. Not fair! For this reason I am VERY wary of puppy buyers trying to replicate a much-loved dog. My advice? If your much-loved fellow was a blue, get a tri, a bi-black, a sable. If he has to be the same color, get a different sex, or very different markings. The different appearance will be a constant reminder that this NOT Billy, but a different dog to be valued and loved for himself.

If you want another Sheltie to "replace" a much-loved companion, forget the color and markings. Ask yourself, "What was it about Billy that I loved so much?" Did you simply leave your Billy out in the yard and forever admire his color and markings? I don't think so! It was the character that he bore UNDERNEATH his suit of fur that you loved. Don't try to find Billy again in a dog that looks like him; you can find Billy only in your heart. Give another little fellow the chance to be your dog in his own way.

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