Take Time Pete

“Take time, Pete,” I shrieked as I saw the crowd part and the sheep divert from the designated pathway through the street fair toward the perimeter of the vendor’s booths. (The “take time” command means exactly what it might indicate -- slow down.)

What was I thinking when I loaded young Pete in the truck to come along to this stock dog handling demonstration?

Over the years I’d done countless sheepdog handling demonstrations with my old dog Gnat; we’d performed in churchyards, schools, rodeos, and cocktail parties in Aspen to name a few. Gnat was a steady calm ranch dog, and her demeanor carried over to everything she did -- no matter the venue, it was just just another day at the office. Sheep loved Gnat and responded quietly to her kindness and strength. Pete, on the other hand, had more go and enthusiasm than any dog I’d ever trained. He was a lot of dog; an athlete and so keen at a young age. On the ranch Pete’s “brakes” on sheep were moderately reliable. I learned early on that Pete’s failure to heed my take time command was never about being naughty or non-compliant. His insatiable addiction to sheep and his desire to work was almost impossible to control in his youth.

As a matter of practicality that hot July day, I knew that Gnat needed some help doing this mid-day demonstration. The heat of summer was hard on my old girl who showing signs of fatigue that come with age and years of hard work. I believe the only way to get a young dog to step up is to give them the opportunity. On the ranch Pete was showing huge signs of maturity on stock, so that hot July day, I gambled and loaded him in the truck with Gnat.

The street fair was set up on a single block with vendor booths around the outside perimeter facing inward toward the center of the block. Conversely, there was a second row of vendor booths on the interior of the block facing outward and creating a narrow pathway between the booths -- similar to a moat around a castle. The only permanent structure on the block was a fire station and an adjacent playground on the far corner.

In classic Nieslanik style we arrived 45 minutes early to get a lay of the land. The fair was a bevy of activity and crawling with people, clowns on stilts, music and food. Joe waited with the dogs and sheep in the truck (and trailer) as I located the event organizer to get instructions as to the location of our impending demonstration.

“Oh we’ve had a change of plan and would like you to run the sheep around the pathway between the vendor booths so everyone can see the dogs and the sheep,” she said. “The fair’s gotten so big that we had to use your demonstration field for parking.”

Well now, this was going to be an adventure, with no defined parameters to control the sheep or Pete. I broke the news to Joe who took it pretty well, but not without a “what have you gotten us into look” and eye-roll first. He compliantly backed the trailer in along the firehouse and unloaded the sheep as directed into a makeshift pen on the playground..

Then over the loudspeaker I heard, “and today we have Ellen Nieslanik and her Border Collies Pete and Gnat to do a sheepdog handling demonstration. Please clear the path between the vendor booths, so everyone can see.”

Gulp! There was no turning back now. Joe opened the gate and gently pushed the sheep out of the pen to start them on their square shaped journey around the interior of the fair. Meanwhile I was with both dogs on the opposite corner of the block, and couldn’t see Joe or sheep. After a few moments, however, I heard Joe’s whistle, which was my que to release the dogs to the right to come in behind the sheep. Conversely, as soon as I released my dogs, I ran in the opposite direction. The idea for me to meet the dogs and the sheep, and then walk backward around the pathway with the dogs bringing the sheep to me. This is the most basic of herding skills when the dog “fetches” the sheep to the handler, and I thought a safe choice with this chaotic scene.

As I rounded the corner I could see Pete lying down in the pathway in front of the sheep who had stopped abruptly at the sight of him. This meant that Pete flanked out around in front of the the sheep to stop what he perceived as their getaway. I couldn’t see Gnat, but knew she was on the other side of the sheep pushing them to me -- and now Pete. With pressure from both sides, the sheep had squirt one way or the other, and they chose outward through the row of vendor booths. After and ignored “take time” command, I gave a lie down whistle and Gnat immediately dropped to the ground. Seeing the sheep get away again, Pete flanked out around the sheep as if the vendor booths and people weren’t even there. By the time I scrambled through the booths to the outside I could see Pete in the distance, as he’d stopped the sheep just short of the creek below. This time his enthusiasm may have caused the chaos, but it also saved an huge wreck.

“Pete, you better take time,” I insisted firmly.

He knew by my tone that I meant business and slowed his pace -- falling in calmly behind the sheep, and bringing them to me. Every so cautiously, I had Pete fetch the sheep to me as we retraced our path back through the crowd (and vendor booths) once more to the interior of the fair. Once inside saw Gnat was exactly where I’d left her and quietly came in behind the sheep with Pete. As we rounded the last corner I could see the trailer over my shoulder at the end of the runway with Joe anxiously looking for us.

“Open the gate and let’s take emm home.” I yelled as I stepped aside let Gnat and Pete load the sheep.

They were so anxious to find safety, that once they saw the open trailer door they couldn’t load fast enough.

“Take time,” I pleaded, as Gnat dropped to her belly. Pete didn’t slow his pace in the least and lept into the trailer right behind the sheep. The crowd went wild, as Joe slammed the door securing Pete and sheep inside the trailer. (Like that was part of the show, yikes.)

Pete’s enthusiasm and desire to work created this sort of chaos repeatedly in the years that followed, but soon maturity took over and he was a force to be reckoned with as Gnat passed away and Pete became top dog on the ranch. He soon reluctantly took my take time commands, but only out of respect to me, not because he wanted to slow his pace or enthusiasm.

I’ve never met a dog so “on fire” to do what God placed them on the planet to do -- herd sheep. That said, Pete was a gentle giant in the family and the best mentor and friend in bringing up pups in training or babysitting kids.

When Pete was 7 we became full-time sheep farmers and bought a farm in Oregon. He was in his element, in herding 300-600 head of sheep (depending on the season), and even more so when we added 250 pasture raised ducks to our farm. Routinely, I had to make Pete take time and get a drink of water. He would literally work until he dropped and go to sleep as one of the most fulfilled dogs on the planet, and get up and do it all over again the next day.

In 2013 a new Border Collie puppy named Lucy came to the farm, and just as expected Pete took Lucy under his wing, becoming mentor, friend and partner in crime. By the time Lucy was a year old she’d mastered the take time command, although I still had to remind Pete, 8 years her senior, to slow it down.

Last year we had to sell our beautiful farm, and livestock in Oregon and returned to Colorado. Pete and Lucy adjusted to our new life, walking on the ranch, chasing the ball and hanging with the family. Ironically Pete and returned to the property where he was raised and where he constantly challenged his handler as a young dog. His life had come full circle.

As the kids left for the airport after the holidays a few weeks ago Pete was in a freak accident. I knew it was serious as I drove my hemorrhaging boy to Grand Junction's trauma center (100 miles away). Long story short his prognosis wasn't good. In his best interest I knew I had to make that dreaded decision within minutes of getting a second opinion.

I asked for pain meds for Pete and for the vet to leave us alone for a few minutes. There I sat on the floor of the exam room in a pool of blood with my loyal friend. Once the pain started to subside (I could tell by his breathing), his head on my lap I leaned over and whispered to him as I stroked his brow.

"Petey.... where are your sheep?" It's what I used to ask him before I'd send him.

“Take time, Petey,” I asked, wanting him to stay with me as long as he could.

He whined looked up and wagged his tail and snuggled in on my lap for the last time.

I sobbed all the way back from Grand Junction which was therapeutic in its own right. Joe and Sam dug a grave in the frozen ground in a beautiful spot down by the creek, and we laid Pete to rest just before dark.

Ohhh I'll miss that happy enthusiastic and loyal friend. Never again, will he be asked to take time. As I stayed up (all night) going through pictures and enumerating the miles and trials (in life and on sheep) that Pete and I traveled together, I realized that I was also mourning the loss of herding dogs and working dogs as well as the loss of Pete.

The next morning Arthur, Lucy and Scruffy and I visited Pete's grave at daylight. All dogs just lay down head on the ground around his grave. Then it hit me.... I picked myself up, made a promise (to Pete) and started on my next journey of working Lucy. Admittedly, I'll be a weekend warrior, and it might not be pretty after a year off, but there is no reason for me to wallow in my pity and NOT work dogs. I have Pete to thank for this illumination, passion and hope that came with the sunrise that cold January morning.

So now I’ll be working and training Lucy in his honor, and I owe it to Pete to TAKE TIME and follow my passion while I still can. Thanks Buddy!