John and Mary Rueckert's Heart O'Gold Shetland Sheepdogs


			A while after my parents moved to Virginia my mother came upon an opportunity to purchase a 2-1/2 year old, pure bred, sable Sheltie male that a local breeder was trying to place. His name was Bobby and evidently this breeder had given the dog to her daughter in order to teach the daughter some responsibility. Well, it seems the daughter was not interested in Bobby and was not doing a very good job of keeping up with his care. This also included a basic lack of attention. Poor Bobby, my mother thought, and soft touch that she is, she bought Bobby and brought him home. On checking his AKC papers we found that they had just registered him weeks before the transfer to my parents. We are still sort of confused about Bobby's roots and why he was so ignored and so kennel bound. Bobby was a very pretty dog with nice correct head and eye, natural ears, cobby body, and big coat. He really was a very respectable Sheltie from a confirmation standpoint. But temperament was another story. It is hard to say whether lack of attention and socialization created his problems, whether it was part of his genetic makeup, or both, but this was one of those Shelties you hear about that hid beneath desks, in corners and behind sofas. Wherever he could squeeze into, he hid. My parents worked with him and slowly over a period of years he improved to the point where he would even greet company, if he knew them. Strangers were to be a problem for the rest of his life. Another immediate issue that needed attention was his name - Bobby! My mother's name was Barbara and her family had always called her Bobby, for short. Everyone seemed to feel it would be confusing for both my mother and the dog when someone called 'Bobby' and no one knew which one was being called. To minimize confusion to Bobby the dog in changing his name at 2-1/2 years of age, it was decided to call him Buddy. Close enough to seem familiar, but different enough for every one to understand who was being called. It must have worked as Buddy took it in stride and never seemed to mind, or be confused. Overall Buddy lead a pretty straight forward, uneventful life. With the handicap of his temperament issues, which were caused by the first 2-1/2 years of his life, Buddy was never to be a playful 'special' dog. He was very loving and gave back in his own way the love and appreciation my parents deserved for all their work with him. He liked to go for walks on lead and participated in family trips and activities. He ate well and seemed content. I guess this in itself made his life special considering the prospects he faced before the day when my mother walked into his life. Buddy always seemed to get along with our other dogs and animals in general. We suspect that this also relates to his time as a kennel dog where his main socialization probably took place with his animal chums. The one surprising event, at least to me, in Buddy's life was a run in he had with a Possum one night when he was about 8 years old. We had put Buddy and Sparky out to take care of their bedtime duties, when all of a sudden we heard a commotion. By the time I could get to the scene, the Possum was on the run. I had never seen Buddy so bright eyed and proud of himself. In the mayhem of the moment it turns out he did receive a puncture wound on top of his nose. Although it healed fine, he did carry this scar for the rest of his life, as a proud reminder of his crowning moment of courage. The only thing I can figure is when it came to guarding his territory, Buddy did have heart. Buddy lived to be more than 14 years old, but he was really only alive for 11-1/2 years. In many places on this web site you will see us speak about the fact that proper socialization in a puppy's formative phase is critical to the dogs adult personality. Buddy is a prime example. This was a very nice dog that was ignored, kenneled, and left to fend for himself emotionally for the first 2-1/2 years of his life. What a shame. What a special dog he could have been if his breeder and owner would have just taken the time to care. The value of Buddy's life needs to be the lesson we should learn about caring for these wonderful creatures that God has given us. They give devotion and love no matter what we do to them, but deserve so much more in return than many of them get. Buddy was lucky, he found my parents. What about the ones that are not so lucky? What did they do to deserve the fate of a life without attention or love?
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