Update on Maggie the Sprollie

Maggie. The dog I didn’t want. The dog that Thunder didn’t want. Problem was—no one else wanted her, either. When Dad died, we were stuck with her, so we had to make the best of it. I am no stranger to having dogs. Our family had dogs all my life. Pollie, the last one, was a real treasure. When Dad wanted another one, I cried. I didn’t want to be walking a dog every day in all kinds of weather. I didn’t want a dog to be interfering with my Thunder time. Dad was so lonely after Pollie died, of course I gave in. Maggie came into our lives.


Now, she has been mine for a year. I don’t like that I have to come home from work to take her out—I wish I could go directly to the barn—so much. I lose a lot of trail riding time because it is too dark when I get there. I love trail riding on chilly October evenings. Well, that is no more.


That’s the worst part, though. I was worried that she wouldn’t be able to adapt to being home by herself while I was at work, but I was blessed by her being a dog of less-than-average intelligence. Pollie would have been a problem. She was smarter than a lot of people—being a Sheltie mix. Maggie is a Sprollie (Border Collie/Spaniel) but she takes after the Spaniel side—no sheepdog in her brain. Give her a duck to chase, and she is happy.


She doesn’t need a lot of mental stimulation. She hasn’t developed any issues at all from her mostly boring life. Rather, she adapted like a champ. She is at the point where she only destroys things that are easy to get and tempting. It’s been months since she knocked down the garbage can. I do have to be careful what I leave in my coat pockets if she can reach them. I lost a cell phone that way…


The walking is good for me, and I don’t mind it if the weather is nice—never did. Winter is tough, but since I have been doing it for decades, what’s a few more years?


She doesn’t come when she is called—and since she likes to run down to the street, I can’t let her loose in the yard. (I think her time in the wild taught her that there is garbage to eat by the street.) She is great on a leash—until she sees another dog on a leash—then she goes nuts. I don’t know what to do about that.



Thunder does pick on her an awful lot. I yell at her if she tries to retaliate, and praise her when she runs away. She does sometimes interfere with our games if she hasn’t had her walk, yet.



She is a good guard dog. The other night, she was barking like crazy at something—and it continued until shortly before I got up. When I came downstairs, I found a dead wasp, so I guess she was defending the house.



So overall, we have adapted—though I think Thunder wouldn’t mind if she decided to go live with the coyotes. He does like chasing her, though.