Of all the dogs I have had, I can think of only two that could thrive and survive in the wild, and would love to be there, those two are Rose and Fate, two border collies I have been lucky to live with.

Both were/are remarkable dogs. Fate always wants to be outside, she never gets cold or restless. She loves her wild and long walks in the woods with Maria, she is an intuitive dog, perhaps (and along with Rose) the smartest dog I have had.

There is a Jack London kind of wildness about her, as there was with Rose, and Maria loves that part of her, she has some of that herself. Rose was much  more serious than Fate, Rose worked, but was not into fun, and she needed and tolerated no cuddling or baby-talk.

Fate has a sense of humor, unlike Rose, she loves to play, wrestle and engage in mischief. I cannot imagine Rose ever stealing food off of a counter when no one was looking. It would have been a breach of loyalty in her mind.

In the bitter cold, even Red rushes to the door after his work is done, Gus is not interested in plowing through the snow. Fate never wants to come, she loves to be around the sheep, and she has figured out how to open the door if we are not careful about shutting it.

We often look out the window to see her sitting by the pasture gate, rain or shine. Yesterday, we are out digging out the cars for a long time, and when I looked up, Fate was sitting out in the snow, head turned back towards the sheep. She misses nothing.

Fate is the only one of my dogs who could live in nature if she had to. She finds creeks and pockets of rain, hears mice and chipmunks from far away, and finds roots and nuts and berries. She is like a deer  in that way, and I’ve seen her dig small shelters for herself.

Like Rose, Fate reminds me of what dogs once were, and are supposed to be, and can be if left along to live their lives.