My mother passed away at the end of 2005. My ex-husband knew I would be impossible to console, so in an effort to make me feel better, he took me to a breeder's house and we picked out a cute little puppy and named her Kiva. Why Kiva? My mother loved the Hopi culture, so I did a bit (ok, a ton) of research, and went back and looked through some of our photos from our trip to the Hopi reservation and remembered how my mother's face lit up when we got to see a kiva.
"ki·va (kv) n. - An underground or partly underground chamber in a Pueblo village, used by the men especially for ceremonies or councils."
Kiva was black and white (mostly black) with a big wide white blaze, one blue eye, one brown, prick ears, and adorable. A personality second to none. Oh yeah ... here's a picture of her in my front yard.
(By the way, if you see this photo anywhere else, it's mine.) (Oh, and if you find the photo on someone's webpage -- let them know there's a typo ... right where they were looking to fling an insult.)
Poor Kiva. She had a very "rough start" in life. No, it wasn't her living conditions, as she never wanted for anything. It wasn't the way she was treated because we loved her dearly. She's an awesome little buddy of a dog. She had it rough having to put up with me crying on her all the time while I mourned the death of my mother. Yes, a very rough start indeed.
When she got old enough, I attempted to start her on stock. She preferred to eat my sheep at every chance she got. She wasn't just a gripper. She was a hanger-onner, go-for-a-rider. She left many of my sheep a mess. I couldn't figure her out so I took her to several other trainers, one of which was mine. He was stumped. She seemed to have no natural ability, no sense of balance, no rhyme or reason to her working style, she loved to chase, and had no desire at all to work with the handler.
Kinda like this:
And this:
I was so disappointed. I knew I would have to give her up because I didn't need another pet, was wanting a good breeding female here. She was anything but that.
And then the downward spiral. Oh the mistakes I made.
My first real lambing season. The lambs were coming faster than I had lambing jugs for them. That day, I had been in and out of the house, back and forth to the pasture, putting up new fencing, checking ewes, getting everyone jugged up, building new jugs ... all with Zip right at my heels. One of the times I came in the house, I noticed Zip didn't come with me. It took two seconds to realize that he was in the backyard, and that someone had let Kiva out, and he was busy visiting her as she was in standing heat. It was too late. I was crushed. Now what?
After discussing our options (spay her and place her ... sell her bred ... etc.), and mulling over the situation, and talking to someone who was interested in her, I made the second huge mistake in Kiva's life. I sold her. Pregnant.
The puppies all came out fine. They are as cute as all puppies are. Blue merles and black and whites. I don't know how many of them had their hips tested, but one that did turned out to be pretty severely dysplastic. The good news was that I sold Kiva to someone who dabbles in herding, so surely she would work her and see what her true ability is prior to deciding whether or not to breed her or cull her from her breeding program. And for a second, I was right! Kiva was taken to a big hat clinician out there, and the clinician said, "Take that dog off stock. She's going to kill something." The good news: it validated my training. I couldn't get her to work, and neither could an experienced clinician. The bad news: surely she would be spayed.
Oops. That's not what happened. She plays flyball. And she has a uterus. And if bred to merles, she will produce merles. She must be worth something. Her litters are justified because poor Kiva had a "rough start" in life, so it doesn't matter what her working ability would have ended up to be, it's just assumed that it would have been awesome had it not been for her "rough start" in herding and she's just too "stressed" around sheep to prove her ability! So she just put another litter on the ground. Why? Nobody knows. The sire? Yes, he's a merle. You didn't think I was going to say he's black and white, did you? Silly you.
I just hope the person that is selling the pups isn't advertising them as working dogs. Oh nevermind ... they are being sold to people who don't care about that anyway. And unfortunately ... those people breed, too. A lot.
I am so sorry, Kiva. I understand if you're upset with me. But look on the bright side ... you will have lots of pretty children to keep you company and take care of you when you get old! Some will be a 7 years old ... some will be 6 years old ... some will be 5 years old ... some will be 4 years old ...
Droopy tails,
JD
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