Of late I have been experiencing a reversal of roles in my daily life. The onset of the current phase actually began in 2007 when my Good Wife and I took the two B.E.s to see the movie, “The Queen,” for which Helen Mirren received an Academy Award for her portrayal of Queen Elizabeth II. The B.E.s did not focus on the human message of the film, but rather on the canine performances on the part of the Queen’s Pembroke Welsh corgis.
As soon as we reached the car for the trip home, the lobbying began, indeed it was insistence, that we should have a corgi. To accommodate the demand, we made inquiries and found that Terry Moss in Kinsale was a locally recognized breeder of corgis. We made an appointment to visit her and found that one of her dogs was pregnant. We met Willa, the expectant mother, and Bogart, the father, both of which were delightful pets, and we agreed to purchase one of the puppies. The younger B.E. pointed to Willa’s belly, and said, “I want that one in there.”
Well, the litter was born and over the next eight weeks, we made repeated visits to the growing family. We selected the one we wanted, named her Lily and brought her home. In the past I always had sporting breed dogs. Lily was the first herding breed dog to join our family. She was a wonderful addition and we quickly learned what “herding breed” means in the world of dogs.
In Welsh, the word corgi means “dwarf dog,” obviously derived from the breed’s three-inch legs. Traditionally, they were bred to herd sheep by nipping at their feet to keep them in line. Our corgis have not nipped at our feet, but they are driven to be “in charge.” Lily, who died five years ago, was more laid back, but clearly wanted to be in the know as to what was going on domestically. A knock at the door put her on alert, barking to inform us—we did not need a doorbell—but once the visitor was admitted to the house, she was fine.
Lily was a loving animal, causing us to want to give her the experience of motherhood. Terry arranged the “marriage,” which resulted in a singleton that we named Maggie, a nickname for Magnolia. For the rest of her life, Lily cared for Maggie as her baby. When we would come in from walking them on a rainy day, Lily would lick Maggie dry before addressing her own fur. Lily never saw her job as a mother as being over; truly in her case the adage, “a mother’s task is never finished” applied.
With Lily gone, Maggie assumed her role as a herder. Both dogs were keenly aware when one of the children or adults was ill, staying by the patient’s side during the recuperative process. Maggie has been anxious to know more of the fowl in the barnyard, I think itching to be able to nip at their legs to keep them in line. Gladys would not like that, nor would Henry and the ducks.
In the last months, the reversal of roles to which I alluded in the beginning of this item, has become more noticeable. Maggie is 13 and 1/2 now. She sleeps more and has lost interest in following up with knocks on the door. Chasing a tennis ball also has become passé. Whereas she and Lily saw themselves as co-parents with the B.E.s during their growing years, the new generation of B.E.s leaves Maggie non-plussed.
In the role reversal, I have ceased being the “herdee” and now am the herder, with Maggie as the herdee. I have to tell her how to behave inside, when to go outside and when dinnertime has arrived. Although she is no longer bossy, she remains a loving pet, enjoying her retirement, satisfied that she has done her duty as a really good pet, an emotion that I wholeheartedly endorse.
