Here’s Mom’s story about our dogs.
Many years ago before there were any children to keep me company, Dad bought me a pup. I forgot where we went – seems it may have been near Portland – and I chose the cutest little ball of black and white fur you ever saw.
This puppy’s father was a Madison Avenue show dog. The mother was a purebred Border Collie farm dog. As befitted such a fancy parentage, I gave her a fancy name: Beulah Rebecca. Dad paid an exorbitant price (for our income and the times), but she proved to be worth every penny.
We didn’t have the wherewithal to pay for breeding purposes, so let nature take its course. There was certainly no neighborhood dog as good as Becky. But not to worry. At the appropriate time a male appeared. He was handsome, well-groomed, and looked very much like Becky. Later a large litter of black and white puppies arrived.
Well, this scenario was repeated several times. Between seasons the father was never seen. We never learned where his home was.
The strange thing was Becky would allow no other male around. Sometimes the lowly animals set a good example for humans.
As Becky grew older, we decided enough was enough. A trip to the vet; no more visits from the Prince. Becky lived to a ripe old age, always good company, a good helpful farm dog, and very protective. We missed her when she was gone.