This is a true tale of homecoming that began in 1970 and has yet to end. The newest chapter was written just the other day. This is a story about love and remembrance. But it is also a story of why it is worth all the labor, pain, and tears to breed Shelties, and to try as hard as we do to make each litter healthy, sound, beautiful, and intelligent.

You might remember Raleigh. He has been pictured on these pages many times. From our 2002 litter by Int. Ch. Caviar's Blue Sky Lark ex Cherden Layla's Song, Raleigh grew up here on the Hill. We still have Raleigh's parents, two blue sisters, and co-own the third sister with another breeder. But Raleigh himself has gone home.

One night in late October of 2003, I picked up the phone and an unfamiliar male voice with a soft southern accent asked for me by name, saying that he was Michael "Jones." Now, I didn't know of any Michael Jones who has a southern accent!

But as it turned out, I did know him. Thirty years ago, Michael was a boy who came with his parents to Clan Duncan looking for a Sheltie. This was when Clan Duncan Hill was on a very different hill, Pleasant Hill just outside of Brandon, Mississippi. The Joneses showed Tennessee Walking Horses, and wanted a companion, a sturdy and stouthearted small dog who could go everywhere with them as they traveled with the horses. They wanted an adult. I had been looking for a home for a 3-year-old male named Lefty for a long time. Lefty was the firstborn puppy of my very first homebred litter, named because he had a partial white collar on the left side of his neck. A skin disease he had when a puppy had left him with a scarred face, so no one wanted Lefty, so of course, he stayed with us. (Yes, he had DM, a mild case.) The Joneses saw Lefty, not his scarred face, and he went home with them and never looked back. I heard from them now and then, but after I moved from Mississippi back to Idaho, the connection faded.

However, when Lefty grew old, the Joneses located me again. This time a pretty black and white older male puppy named Boulder was sent to them. Boulder was a heartbreaker, gorgeous, but very slightly too large for the show ring. Boulder was by Ch. Harvest Hills Shoeshine Boy ex our Clan Duncan Silver Tabby (Thunder Blue).

By this time Michael was a freshman at Ole Miss (the University of Mississippi). After the first semester, he contracted mononucleosis, and was sent home for several months of complete rest. During this time he and Boulder became very close, although, as Michael told me tonight, "Boulder loved me but was always Dad's dog. They had a bond that was so close it is difficult to describe." Boulder has been gone for six years, and Michael has been searching for me. He is now a public relations consultant in Nashville, Tennessee.

Of course, we have an unlisted phone number and I have since changed my name and moved many times. But that night Michael finally found me. I am a person who rarely sheds a tear, but that night with its voice from the past was very strange, one of those rare times. Though he was a young boy the only time we met, Michael remembered both of Lefty's parents, and remembered that his dam Bonny would fall over and play dead if you pointed your finger at her and said, "Bang, bang." I had forgotten that. Though her descendants are still with us, Bonny herself has been gone for twenty years. Michael told me that Lefty and Boulder added immeasurable depth and richness to the Joneses' lives. Then he asked me if I had any dogs available, perhaps a young adult.

Raleigh was a problem child for us -- not that Raleigh ever caused a problem -- far from it. He is a very sweet, biddable dog (in the photo above, he is posing for me, tied to a tree). It was placing him that was the problem. Why? Raleigh is in size, is a nice boy overall and has the most beautiful long arched neck and correct shoulder set-in I have ever bred. Raleigh is not perfect, but he is a lovely dog. I was keeping both parents and all the sisters, so advertised him for sale and had a number of offers. But somehow I just could not let Raleigh go, a foolish stance for a breeder who already has more than enough males. But there it is: I just could not bring myself to place him. If you are one of the people who contacted me about Raleigh, I do apologise. Sometimes a puppy has about him an air of waiting, like a long story half-told, and Raleigh was such a puppy. So he stayed with us.

Then came Michael's phone call. He wanted a female, so I emailed him a photo of one I thought suitable, but on impulse, added a snapshot of Raleigh as well. Michael's answer came back almost at once: "He's the one."

So Michael got into his Navigator and set out on a long November drive between Tennessee and this lonely gulch in the intermountain west.

When Michael arrived at the Hill, it soon became obvious that Michael was the one for Raleigh, too. After an hour in the kitchen, Raleigh had decided that sitting at Michael's feet was the place to be. That indescribable connection between a dog and his master was being born. I could see that Raleigh's time with us was coming to an end. As an added little sparkle, we found that we, too, have a new friend.

The following day Raleigh, ensconced in his new crate with its soft pad and wearing his brand-new collar, was placed in Michael's SUV, and together they began the long journey home. For us on the Hill, Raleigh's story has moved to a more distant place; but for Raleigh, the best chapter of his life has just begun.

The End

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