If Red is a kind and even-tempered soul, Fate is a Pirate Dog, perhaps it is her one blue Merle eye, it captures the somewhat made and mischievous spirit of a dog I call the Pirate Puppy. Fate and I connect to the madness in one another, all we have to do is look at each other and mischief follows. She is  up for anything at any time, all the time, day or night. She fights sleep like a two-year-old human in a tantrum, she is ready to work at any time, and sometimes shriek in protest when she is left behind.

I believe she loves to taunt me, she loves to go into any room with a trash can, pull out a tissue, pop up in the living room door, stare me in the eye, drop the tissue and run. Farmers have always cautioned me not to have any animal smarter than me, I think I might have crossed the line. Somehow, once or twice a day, she manages to sneak up stairs, pick a sock or two out of the clothes basket and hide it under the bed. I have never seen her go upstairs or caught her in the act.

She never damages the sock, she just gathers them in a stash under the bed. I think she must chuckle in  her crate at the thought of me coming upstairs and cursing, crawling under the bed for my socks. I admit to loving the mad gleam in her eye. I love having pirate dog, I am, after all, a man with the tattoo of a real-life Jewish Pirate – Moses Cohen Hernandez – on my right forearm, a Jewish star with a skull and cross bones centered in it.

Fate will not be one of border collies who knows 500 words – I can’t imagine a more useless and selfish thing to teach a dog. But around her she will get to use her brains, she will not be teaching English in any school. On walks in the woods. With sheep in the back-yard. With two restless people who love to ride around with dogs. When she rides in my car, she is the navigator, she puts her long hind legs on the rear seat, her front legs on the front seat divider, and her head on my shoulder, where she keeps a close eye on traffic. I hope she never gets hold of a key to the car.