As I drive down the road in my Toyota mini-RV, I take advantage of an open stretch of highway to glance back
at Borage - a rock star in his new tour bus - passed out on the couch. It’s a hot Indian summer day - I opened all of the windows wide to keep my husky cool. Curtains whip in the wind blowing all around him.
Borage sleeps in his trademark pose. He reclines flat on his back with all four of his long, elegant legs stretched straight up in the air - four giant paws reaching to the sky.
I witness this scene daily yet still I laugh out loud. Like Robin Williams, Borage is always a comedian, a goofball, trying to pull a laugh out of everyone, even in his sleep. He hears my chuckling and without moving any other muscle, his tail wags.
For some reason, this particular moment a few months back threw my mind into instant rewind, and my decade-long partnership with Borage flashed before my eyes. At that moment it hit me - Borage created a career for me. I wouldn’t be driving down this road without him.
I was working for dog musher, Terry Adkins, on June 13, 2000 - the day that Borage was born. Later that night, I flipped through a plant guide book and named the litter of seven pups after herbs. The girls became Rosemary, Basil, Mint, Sage, and Chives. The two big boys would be known as Dill and Borage.
The first time we hooked up the Herb Litter to run as sled dogs, the rookie team took off, loping along alike they’d been pulling for years. All except for Borage - he flipped over flat on his back with all four feet in the air and dragged like a sack of potatoes. This went on for days, weeks, months. Finally, Terry decided that Borage wasn’t going to be much of a sled dog. Kirby, my beloved pet dog of 12 years, had just passed away; I was thrilled to take beautiful Borage as my own.
Borage and I have traveled thousands of miles together - mushing (he was just a slow learner), hiking, running, road-tripping.
Over our last ten years together, Borage and I have performed over 1000 dog mushing presentations in schools and libraries all over the country. The first column I wrote for the Great Falls Tribune in the fall of 2001 was about Borage. There was something about seeing him lounging in the back of my RV that day that overwhelmed me with emotion - I am so thankful for our last decade of adventure together.
On a late Friday night one month ago, I opened the tailgate of my Toyota so Borage could jump in the back. Normally, Borage is insane with excitement every time I make a move for the car. He usually leaps three feet higher than necessary every time he hops into the back of my SUV. This time, Borage just stood there with his head low, his tail between his legs. He refused to get in the vehicle.
Earlier that day when I took all three of my dogs for a run in the snow at a local park, Borage was his normal puppy-self. Borage is known for his effortless, floating stride. People often mistake my decade-old man for a young dog. I get a kick out of revealing his true age.
Finally, Borage tried to crawl up into the vehicle. He got his front paws up on the floor, but couldn’t seem to make his hind end follow. My heart hit the pavement.
I picked Borage up myself and positioned him on his dog bed in his familiar spot. My mom was with me, and we rushed him to the veterinary emergency room.
The ER veterinarian was amazed by Borage’s athleticism. Even after an intensive physical exam, he located no painful spots on my stoic dog. The vet suggested I give Borage some painkillers and wait a week. I took Borage home.
That night as Borage snoozed on my parents’ living room couch with all four legs in the air, I couldn’t sleep. One day Borage was fine, the next day he couldn’t walk up stairs or get in the car. I would never rest until I found out exactly what was happening inside of Borage.
The next morning my friend, Dr. Shannon Kiley, went over Borage with a fine tooth comb. Shannon just lost Disney, her once-in-a-lifetime hunting dog - a flatcoat retriever - this last summer. We didn’t need to talk about what I wanted to know - everyone who owns an old dog fears the day when “something isn’t quite right,” and an x-ray reveals a seemingly healthy body riddled with cancer.
We x-rayed Borage from head to paws. Thankfully, all of the scans were clear with just a touch of arthritis beginning on his lower spine. His hips were textbook perfect. I couldn’t hold back tears of relief.
By the end of Saturday, Borage was chasing me to the garage door, always longing for a road-trip even if it is just a dash to the grocery. Even so, Shannon and I decided to give him a week of total home rest, and some Rimadyl for inflammation. The false alarm also prompted me to get him on a protocol of Adequan injections, Glucosamine tablets, and acupuncture/massage to try to stay ahead of the newly-developed arthritis.
Because Borage was born in the year 2000, I have always looked at New Year’s Day as his other birthday. Borage will turn 11 in 2011 - and what a wonderful 11 years we’ve had together. And I will appreciate every moment to come.
Load up, Borage! We’re going on an adventure...
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