“Would you like to see Skipper?” Alan asked. “My parents are visiting and they’ve brought him along.”
“Yes! Definitely!”
Alan was a breeder and exhibitor of Old English Sheepdogs, a friend I knew from the dog show world. Some years ago, his parents decided to get a dog and though they were fond of their son’s choice of breed, they were less than enthusiastic about the upkeep required for the OES coat. So Alan suggested a Bearded Collie, smaller and easier to groom but still with an appealing shaggy dog look and congenial temperament. His parents agreed with his choice and left it up to him to find one for them. That’s when I entered the picture. Alan approached me about acquiring a pup and I let him know when the next litter was born. When they were old enough to leave home, Alan came to pick up the selected pup and deliver him to his parents’ home some 200 miles away.
I never saw the pup after that though Alan kept me updated on his growth, his personality and his antics. One tale that sticks in my mind involved the time when his devoted owners decided to send him off to a local pet salon for a bath and grooming. Before relinquishing their pet to the groomer, they carefully questioned if she knew how to correctly groom a Beardie. She assured them she did. She lied. Oh how she lied! When Skipper was returned, his owners gasped and didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. So they did both. There stood their beloved boy adorned in a Poodle show clip! Rosettes and all. When Skipper saw their horrified reaction to his trim, he dove under their front porch in embarrassment and refused to come out for two days. Beardies may be clowns at times but you have to draw the line somewhere.
The years went by and Alan married and moved to a place only a short drive from my home. Then came the day I got Alan’s call about his parents’ visit. It had been 12 years since Skipper had left my home as an eight-week-old pup. This would be the first time I had seen him since that long-ago day. Wheeling my van into Alan’s driveway, I was greeted by the whole family, dog included. Skipper gave me just a passing glance and trotted on by. Suddenly he stopped as though he had just realized something and turned back to me. With an “Omigosh, it’s really you” look in his eyes, he launched himself into my arms, bestowing doggie kisses accompanied by wiggling whimpers of delight. Could he really remember me after a dozen years? Obviously he did. He glued himself to my side for the rest of my visit, nudging my hand to elicit pats and scratches and make sure I was still there. When it came time for me to leave, I opened the van door and Skipper immediately jumped in, taking up a spot on the passenger seat and looking at me as if to say “Okay, mom, let’s go home.” He was finally coaxed from the van and I departed sans a sad Skipper.
The visit left me with a dozen mind munchies, puzzles that played games in my brain. Skipper wasn’t the first dog to recognize me after an extended period of time. There had been others who greeted me like a rich relative after a year or two and one Beardie who hadn’t seen me for six years. But TWELVE? Scent is the greatest of a dog’s senses. Long after hearing and sight have diminished or disappeared completely, the ability to detect a scent still works just fine. But could Skipper remember my scent after all those years? (And yes, I do shower regularly in case you were wondering.) Would a person’s basic scent change over time? If it wasn’t scent that prompted the recognition, then what might it be?
TV, newspapers and YouTube occasionally carry tales of dogs reunited with someone after extended years. But so far none I’ve seen have mentioned anything like the dozen years that stretched from Skipper’s puppyhood to his senior status when we met again. Maybe it doesn’t happen all that often. But even if the secrets of canine memory aren’t revealed, there’s still the warm, fuzzy feeling provided when a dog demonstrates that he not only remembers you but recalls the affection you both shared with his unbridled enthusiasm. And isn’t it wonderful to think that you made such a lasting impression! …especially if you’re the sort whose mind goes blank when you try to introduce your best friend to your Aunt Whatshername.
— Alice Bixler, alice@bedlamkennels.com, Bearded Collie Club of America.
