Halley

Halley, at her cutest.

Halley came into our lives like a comet. Or maybe a meteor. Or more specifically a meteorite, as she landed in our family with quite an impact. I didn’t realize how much of an impact that would be, even after I named her after Halley’s comet. (In case you’re wondering, Halley rhymes with alley, not daily.) 

You can read Halley’s adoption story on this site, which I wrote when she joined our family in September of 2019. You can also read “I Didn’t Expect Baby Nazgûl,” which I posted about a month later, when we realized the challenges we were facing with her. But the next time she appeared on the blog was eleven months later, when I told the story of Halley’s successful integration into our home. 

Jasper, Halley and Lilah, when Halley first joined the back. She was so smol.

That’s a long time for me not to write. That’s because it took nearly a year before I was sure she could stay with us. She came to us a physically sick and psychologically risky pup. In addition to a Giardia infection, she also had worms, and we had to keep her on a very restricted diet for many weeks, which made her hard to train, as there was no such thing as a high-value treat. And boy, did she need training. She was freaked out by the crate, and melted down when she saw our cats, or a squirrel through the window, or another dog in a store. She had severe separation anxiety and was a textbook example of barrier frustration. In short, she was a highly reactive mess. 

The three amigos.

The cat issue was the most critical problem, as I needed to make sure that my kitties were safe and felt comfortable in their home. When Halley first came to live with us, she was so intensely focused on them, that I wasn’t sure what she do if she got close to one, and most definitely did not want to find out.

I sought help from several veterinarians, behaviorists, trainers, and countless classes. I read dozens of articles, bought several books, watched a bunch of videos. I focused on daily positive reinforcement because I was determined to make her adoption work. I was afraid if I couldn’t successfully train her, she may never find a home—and I couldn’t accept that. The stakes were high for this pup.

It took enormous amounts of patience and training, but I wrote that post in August of 2020, because by then I knew Halley could stay. Forever. You can read that story, along with helpful training tips: “Halley and the cats: A successful adoption made possible through training, positive reinforcement, and patience.”

Today, Halley is a sweet and loving companion and a fully integrated part of our family. She respects the cats, and sometimes even tries to play with them, though they are clearly uninterested.

They are both trying so hard not to hiss each other off.

Halley and Calvin. I think they may actually like each other, but not enough to call it a relationship. It’s still complicated.

She loved Jasper and Lilah; it is my hope that I will be able to adopt a friend for her. I think she is lonely and could use a canine companion, and she’s at a place where a new family member probably wouldn’t pick up bad habits from her.

When there were three: Lilah, Halley and Jasper in the leaves.

After we lost Jasper, Halley and Lilah got even closer.

We’ve come a long way, baby.

A Border Collie, lab and terrier mix, Halley represents the best and the worst of those breeds. 

Halley showing her calm side. She does have one.

Her Border Collie brains make Halley the smartest dog I’ve ever worked with; I can train her to do nearly anything in just a few minutes. She knows basic commands: Sit, Stay, Down, Leave It, Come, Wait. We still practice those, as squirrels can still cause her to lose her brain. Most days I can call her off a chase, but not always. Cheese helps. But not always.

She really wants to go out there and chase squirrels.

Halley also knows Shake, High Five, Spin, Roll Over, Take A Nap (a better version of playing dead, which doesn’t sit well with me). She has learned to point out items that are different colors and identify different toys. She files her nails on a nail board, and wipes her feet on a mat when she comes in from outside. She knows all commands in sign language as well. She loves food puzzles and solves them quickly, though usually with some powerful paw action.

Halley is intensely curious. Here she inspects a cicada skin. I’ve also watched her get up close and personal with a bullfrog who simple did not care that there was a dog whose head was twice his size had her nose in his face.

Nothing gets by this dog. She has figured out that the sound our Ring doorbell makes when there’s movement outside means there is a barkable something in the front yard, and runs to the door or window to look out and see what it is, and to determine and deliver the appropriate level of barkage. 

Halley has one of the most piercing barks I’ve ever heard. And one of the best “awoos.”

Halley has a word board, and she uses it to make requests. One day I was taking too long to prepare her dinner, and she walked away from her place on her mat, and pounded the “Dinner” button. I think she thought I may have forgotten the task at hand. 

Waiting for dinner on her mat. We trained her to do this and she’s very good about it; if we go somewhere, we take the mat, and she knows it’s her place to hang out and be calm.

Halley presses her Dinner button.

Her lab genetics probably have something to do with her bounce. We still work on controlling that. Most times when people come visit, we need to spend a little calm-down time to reduce the bounce-age. Unfortunately, she didn’t have a lot of practice with greeting people during Covid times. We isolated a lot longer than most people, after my grandson was born and we needed to be extra cautious; he was at risk for complications from the virus. 

That lab-iness may have also contributed to the time Halley sprained her tail, which is a common lab ailment. There is nothing sadder than a dog that hurt her wagger, especially when the vet tells you to keep her calm and not try to make her happy. 

Halley has two modes: full speed and relax. There is really nothing in between.

In her first four years, Halley hurt herself many times. I chalk that up to her terrier genes. When she’s intent on something, there is no stopping her; she charges full speed ahead. When she was less than a year old, I heard a yelp after she ran into our bushes after something or someone. She ran back out and it seemed like everything was fine, until Doctor Lilah sniffed at Halley’s side and started chittering. That’s when I noticed Halley was bleeding. A trip to the emergency vet during Covid was no fun, as I waited in the parking lot for the team to assess her. Somehow she had impaled herself on a stick; the vet told me whatever it was went in about six inches, and it was only luck that whatever it was that stabbed her stayed outside her ribcage. Otherwise, the vet told me, it would have been a “life-ending” injury. 

When she hurt herself, we didn’t want to use a cone for months. This donut worked. Kind of.

It took Halley many weeks to recover. Since then, in addition to the tail sprain, she also pulled up lame multiple times, including hurting her iliopsoas muscle in one of her back legs. That which required months of rest, restricted activity, no jumping up on beds, couches or in the car, as well as physical therapy and acupuncture. 

We had to restrict stair climbing when Halley injured herself. Here she is channeling Rosie, who used to sit on the stairs all the time.

What makes Halley happy? She’s not much of a ball- or stick-chaser like my previous terriers. She has a few favorite toys, with her Monkey being the top choice most times. She’ll bring Monkey to me, we’ll play tug for a few minutes, and if I happen to win control, I’ll throw it and she’ll bring it back to me. She’ll do that a few times and then…she’s done. I think it gets boring for my brainy and peripatetic dog. I always stop and play with her when she asks; it makes me smile every time. 

Playing tug with a toy. I think it’s a moose or a bear.

Halley and her favorite toy: Monkey. He’s been repaired a few times, and is always the first toy she grabs.

She is an amusing pup, who loves to curl up in cat beds that are obviously too small for her. I’m not sure why this is a thing, but somehow she channels the cat motto of “If I fits, I sits.” The cats don’t seem to mind and there are plenty of beds—little and big—for all.

I swear I have no idea how she fits herself in there. It’s for cats or tiny dogs up to 15 pounds. Halley weighs 31 pounds.

Halley can also use a larger bed. She’s on a leash here because she was on restricted activity due to her injured iliopsoas muscle; she was not allowed to leap or jump up.

I think Halley’s favorite thing is to go for a walk in our local park. It’s wooded, and quiet during the week. We have a favorite trail that takes us on a two-mile loop. There are squirrels and chipmunks to sniff at—and sometimes geese or ducks in the reservoir. She’s never quite gotten over being triggered by fast-moving cars, and I think she’s done so well with everything I asked of her that I’ve decided not to force the issue. Besides, I like walking in the park better than on the street, so I think we’re both happier. 

Halley loves to go for walks in our local park. So do I.

If we’re not walking, Halley is content to just sit outside and take in the sights and smells and sounds of our back yard. There’s so much to take in. She’ll hang out on one of our lounges for hours if given a chance, bolting off if to run after a squirrel or chipmunk or other chaseable creature or to offer heartfelt commentary on a vulture or hawk.

This dog knows how to be comfortable, while she surveys the yard. She would stay outside all day, as long as it isn’t too wet or cold.

Living the dream.

She loves being outside—except when it’s wet. She is not a fan of wet paws, thank you very much. On rainy days, Halley reluctantly goes outside, but will come back in as quick as possible, even if business is incomplete. That said, on really hot days, this black dog will cool her feet off in a baby pool, before running off after whatever creature of interest is nearby.

She’s not had much experience with snow, as we haven’t had really snowy winters recently. She doesn’t mind as long as there are sniffs to follow or creatures to chase.

And Halley loves people. All of them. If she’s met you once, you’re her best friend. If she’s meeting you for the first time, you’re going to be her best friend. As for people she sees more often, Halley simply cannot contain the joy when they return. That’s when the bounce gets the better of her. Once she calms down, Halley loves to snuggle. She cuddles up to any best friend who happens to be on a couch. At night, she lies at the foot of our bed, and somehow by morning, she’s wedged herself between my husband and I, often with her head on a pillow—or one of us.

Often, this is my view first thing in the morning.

Snuggling with my mom.

Halley and my grandson share a mutual interest in bird watching.

Me and Halley. She gives the best kisses.

Halley makes me laugh, multiple times a day. 

Halley has mastered the art of the sad puppy look, and applies it at any opportunity, often putting her face on my leg and looking up at me adoringly. And when she feels particularly snuggly, she’ll wiggle her way in and around my or my husband’s legs, in an action we call snorgling; she rubs her face and body against us, wagging her tail and her entire body, as she is just so happy to be with her people.

Whatever you want, Halley, it’s yours when you look at me like that.

She has so many expressions, this dog.

I am so glad I stuck with this dog and worked so hard to train her. She is a sweet, friendly, occasionally bouncy and much loved member of our family.

Halley can even look suave and sophisticated when she’s in the mood .

And if pressed, I think Dawn, Athena, Calvin and Elsa Clair might even agree. 

Not a common occurrence, but 2 cats and a dog on the bed!

Love