Tracy J. Libby is an award-winning freelance writer and author of five dog books including, "The Border Collie". In a recent article she contributed to "Modern Dog Magazine" she wrote, "Border Collies are high-drive, high-energy dogs that move faster than the speed of gossip." She went on to say, "unmatched in brains, instinct and endurance, they can do just about anything — and do it superbly."

I came to this same conclusion within the first few weeks of having adopted Echo. His seemingly endless thirst for knowledge, keen reasoning, and constant need to please certainly kept me on my toes, but in all truth, I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

I’ve often heard die hard dog people speak about their "lifetime dog" – the one which greatly influenced their life and who changed who they were. For me that dog was Echo.

From the first days of his adoption all the way through to his death at the young age of two and a half, he spent the better part of the days and evenings working with me and playing with my clients’ pups. Having researched the breed for over a year prior to his adoption I knew that I’d have to give him a job that he could thrive at… And thrive he did.

Every aspect of daily life became a sort of training session. Echo learned tasks such as how to carry dirty laundry from one room to another and bring a message to another person in another room. He learned a little over 200 words during his short lifetime. While on duty with me, he’d keep an eye on the pups, and made sure no one would get too excited or out of control, letting out a single solitary bark to keep them in check if they did become too zealous. He even went so far as to round up a dog that escaped from the dog park one winter, bringing the pup back as though he had been herding animals for years. His intelligence amazed me – his passion thrilled me.

Succeeding was Echo’s biggest pleasure – my greatest pleasure was seeing Echo happy. We were a good match. I still miss him dearly but I know he’s probably having an awesome time rounding up clouds up in doggie heaven.

In my efforts to guide Echo towards being a better dog, I came to realize that it was in fact him who had made me a better human being.

This tiny Boston terrier - presumably born in 1997 - was abandoned on the side of a country road during the summer of 2007. He was graciously taken in by Gerdy’s Rescue and was immediately put up for adoption. Gerdy nicknamed the little tyke, “Peanut/Old Man”.

During the hottest days of 2007’s summer, it had become a ritual for me to bring Echo to “Spaws” - a boarding kennel which houses an outdoor (human/canine) pool. It was through “Spaws” owner Deena that I first met Peanut/Old Man. Soon thereafter I met Gerdy to discuss the possibility of adopting this intriguing little fellow.

Before either of us could utter “woof”, Peanut/Old Man had found his new home. I decided that since he had a new home, he might as well have a new name. His face riddled with the effects of age reflected a sense of wisdom and great experience so he was appropriately renamed Yoda.

Yoda has adapted extremely well. He has become quite playful with his fellow Bostie, Leia, and loves the canine companionship that comes hand in hand with dog park runs. His pet pleases are cuddling with any human, snoring with his short muzzled canine friends, big dog Kongs, face/nostril licking, taking long group (summertime) walks and basking in the summer sun.

Ironically Yoda came into my life a few weeks prior to Echo’s unexpected death. I’m grateful that he did. This little guy (with the big heart) made my loss much easier to bear.

A very special thank you to both Deena and Gerdy – your kindness and devotion are greatly admired and appreciated!

AKA: Jelly Bean, Bobble Head, Ms. Pac Man, Stinky Pooh, citron # 2, Lei Lei.

Leia, born September 13th 2007, was adopted at the age of two months. I chose her because of her calm nature, the manner in which she responded to my voice and because she possessed a look of sheer intelligence. She’s proven me right. In fact, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say this little Boston terrier is truly a Border collie in disguise!

Leia is very gifted when it comes to learning. She’s nothing short of quick both physically and mentally. Very well socialized, she welcomes every opportunity to visit friends at the dog park. She loves nothing more than hours of play time followed by deep slumber sessions with Yoda snoring by her side.

Her other favourite pastimes are playing in the water, chasing bath water down the drain, playing with Yoda, car rides, trying to find birds flying in the sky, performing tricks, human encouragement and, like all other Boston terriers, face/nostril licking.

I love this little gal’s playfulness and sense of humour. It’s safe to say that she spoils me every day!

This kitty of cascading colour (hence the name Prism) is, by far, the reigning matriarch of our feline family. She has always been - and still remains - fiercely protective of her personal space. But this only applies when it comes to other cats. Flanked by a human... Well, that's a different story.

Prism is keenly aware when a human being - be it someone familiar or a total stranger - is within stroking distance. She loves to play hide and seek with her human companions and gladly meows when we call her name. She is also trained to take walks with me, without a harness and unleashed. Of course she will occasionally flee to catch a fly or bird but she always returns to heel at my feet. She truly is one of a kind!

Bandit was always the one cat within our brood that kept us continually entertained. He held the household record for catching birds, flies, spiders and pretty much anything else that moved. Meticulous about dribbling plant leafs in a style that can only be compared to that of a pro in the NBA, Bandit was able to paw plants hours on end. His persistence wass utterly fascinating.

Despite his long, fluffy coat, Bandit was not one who shied away from a good heat source. He loved to fall asleep in the clothes dryer, especially right after it's been used. He also liked to lie across my shoulder and if I stroked his neck just the right way, he'd relax in the best "Superman" pose ever seen.

Sadly Bandit had a predisposition to kidney stones. Once the problem became chronic, I decided it best to spare him the constant pain and have him put down. I miss the little fellow but putting him down was the right decision made at the right time.

Pause (bless his little shy soul) was chary of almost anything that moved or made a sound. The biggest of our feline family, Pause, would always, without fail, stop dead in his tracks and freeze if something spooked him. Hence the name "Pause" rather than "Paws".

Despite his antsy nature, Pause was a wonderfully beautiful and affectionate cat. He was a large yet lean cat, weighing almost 20 lbs once fully grown. He looked like a mini Bengal tiger.

Pause suffered kidney failure at the age of 3. After a week of administering 12 shots of saline solution daily it was clear to me that not only was Pause not responding to treatment, he was ready to move on. A cat who never was much for roaming outside, he continually returned to the kitchen window in what seemed to me like his attempt to tell me, "let me go. I'm ready". I deemed his suffering too great and brought him to his vet to have him put down. It was one of the most difficult things I've ever had to do.

Pause is still sorely missed. And he surely will never be forgotten.

My first experience with a pet of my own came about when my parents bought an eight week old Boston Terrier. I was six years old at the time. I knew I loved her from the moment I saw her. What I couldn't have guessed at the time was that she would influence my life forever.

The day the pup was brought into our home was both chaotic and frustrating but ultimately it also proved to be one of the best days of my life. Flanked by an older sister (who was bigger and stronger than me) and a younger brother (who is still to this day thought of as the baby of the family), I was shoved out of the little circle that formed around the pup (albeit through no deliberate attempt on my siblings' part - they were simply trying to show their immediate affection towards the pup and were welcoming her into our home). I was keenly aware that the dog was in utter shock. She was trembling, crouched down, her ears were back and she peered cautiously upward at her new humans. Every fiber of my kiddy being wanted to break through the tiny circle my family had formed and scoop her up and away to a quiet safe haven reserved for just for her and me. Despite this urge, I stepped back into a corner of the kitchen to give her as much space as I possibly could and I waited... But the wait got the best of me and I began to cry. My father noticed and came to me. Being the great father that he is, he offered to have me name our new charge. And as fast as they came about, gone were the tears. I immediately blurted, "Gilligan" (I was a big fan of "Gilligan's Island" at the time). Dad explained that the pup was a girl and so I decided on the next best name. And so, "Ginger", the movie star, it would be for the next 14 years.

Ginger was the best dog a human could wish for. She was always willing to put up with our childhood antics and ready to learn anything we would try to teach her. Although to her they were probably just 3 distinct sounds for any given word, we always thought of her as understanding 3 different languages. She was so obedient and loyal that we even had her pose as a baby so that we could bring her into "Marine Land" with us. Completely wrapped up in her baby blanket, never once did she wriggle from my mother’s arms, nor did she whimper, growl or bark at the various animals roaming the park grounds. She would play dress up with us - she learned a slew of tricks both common and kooky - she remained loyal and true throughout our trying, hormone filled teen years. She was my best friend.

By the time I had turned 20, Ginger had been diagnosed with cancer. It wasn’t too long before we all came to understand that the quality of life she had been living had changed drastically for the worse. None of us could bear to see her suffer. Ginger Binger Pieters was put down at the age of 14.

She may not be with us physically any more but her spunk and canine charm that were passed along through memories will remain with the Pieters family always.