My household became smaller by one Border Collie’s worth today. Jeff came and picked up Ringo, who I’d been fostering since January.

Ringo was slow to warm to me, but by now, he was my buddy. He’d talk to my in his funny growly voice when I went outside. He was always more interested in getting some loving than playing with the ball, and I’d have to maneuver around him to pick it up to throw for Angus. He’s still horribly camera-shy, and looks away if he even sees you point one towards him.

The three of us had a little fitness program, as I’d take them both for a walk about four days a week. That was Ringo’s favorite time, ever, each time. He’d fly down the road with absolute joy on his face, and bounce right back up to me when I called. He learned to walk on a leash for me, as he had no recall when we started, and would run for the truck as soon as he could see it, no stopping him. He was just at the point where I could stop him (unless he was chasing a rabbit) and he’d look over his shoulder at me all disgusted. He loves his truck, and doesn’t care which truck it is.

Jeff knows I love him, and actually offered him to me, but I turned him down. I do love the dog, but it would be pretty rotten of me to take his dog away from him right when he got home and was trying to get readjusted to life. I told him that if he ever wanted to get rid of him though, he’d always have a home with me.

I wasn’t this attached the last time, with Cheyenne and the old Dalmation and Sioux the puppy. Mostly because I’d raised a litter and was more than ready to have my house back. But Ringo only added to our family, and wasn’t annoying at all, even with his little digging habit.

Angus is going to miss his buddy terribly, but if you would please throw the ball for him, he might feel better.