In California, we live in a very small house with a tiny little old-fashioned furnace attached to the wall. The furnace makes terrible clanging noises. Clang-clang! I shiver and shake and run to your side of the bed. One night, you wrapped me in a big towel and lifted me up into bed with you. I could still hear the bang-clanging, but it felt better to be close to you where I could hear your heart-beat. Two heart-beats are better than one. That’s why Valentine’s Day is important. Most animals want more than one heart-beat to hear. If they don’t have a heart, heaven helps them find another way to love.

I am also a little bit afraid of the rain. Lightning might follow. I am great-big afraid of lightning. It is very loud. Since I was born to take care of you, you must take care of me too. If lightning sounds loud to you, remember it’s almost three times louder to me. And fireworks? Oh, dog. I have a lot of work to do to keep track of all the noises that could harm you.

Working so hard makes me tired. I sleep a lot so I can be ready to keep us safe.

Thank you for finding another way to make it warm inside our little California house. You shut off the furnace and found big towers of heat to plug into the wall. I am a happier dog. When we came home to Minnesota, there was a lot of noise one night after people jumped into the icy lake for something called the Polar Plunge…FIREWORKS!! We ran home and I hid in the back of my kennel. You turned on Chopin and then Bach—loud. Thank you for protecting me. I try to protect you too.

Oliver’s Advice: Take care of each other. We are all afraid of something and must protect those we love from harm—real or imagined.

To all my friends: I’M BACK!! It’s still me, Oliver, the Bearded Collie, sharing with you, my fanbase. I’m older and wiser, six human years old last July. If you want my earlier advice, please check our website: www.onelightsource.net and my new blog address: onelightsource.home.blog When you subscribe, you can be a regular reader!! Thank you.

Oh, dog! I dictate my pictures by thought to Carolyn. She puts them into words. I speak to her on matters of the heart and mind and she writes it down and sends it to you.

I’m sorry I’ve been remiss. I have a big vocabulary. Remiss means I neglected you. Please forgive me for not writing to share my great wisdom for the past year and a half. Now I’m back. You have been patient. I know you didn’t forget me.

A lot has happened in my life. I see a lot. I hear a lot. I think in pictures and I understand your feelings. They show in your face and in your body. I speak in barks and leaps and an occasional growl if I notice something unusual, like a person lurking about on a street corner or someone wearing a suspicious looking backpack. My growl comes from deep inside me, harkening back to primeval days when my forebears (foredogs) had to protect large packs of humans. I warn you about possible trouble. I can’t control my growls or my joyful leaps in the air. They o’erleap themselves. “O’erleap” is a word from a man named Shakespeare.

We just got back from California with the new baby who is already two years old. She loves me, takes me for walks, and calls me her best friend, “Olive.” She can call me anything she wants as long as she doesn’t hit me with her hard plastic musical toy when she gets excited. I do understand about getting excited.

Sometimes, other dogs attack me for no clear reason. Maybe it’s all my hair. Could it be the same reason I run after a certain cat I love named Patches? I just don’t know how to play with a cat. Maybe some dogs don’t know how to play with me, a sheepdog. Or maybe it’s something else I’ll never know, having to do with o’erleaping.

When other animals get too excited about you, it’s important to hold your tail steady, go somewhere else, out of reach, and wait until the coast is clear.

Oliver’s Advice: Try not to fight. You could lose some hair or fur or even get a broken paw. “Not a good idea,” says Bowie, my baby.

One day she was here. The next day she was gone. A week later you came home with a funny smelling box. I think that was my sister, but I couldn’t be sure. You let me sniff it for a little while and then you put it away. For those of you who have had dogs who grew up together, you know that we don’t all go to the rainbow bridge at the same time. One pooch usually travels before the other. Calliope was fourteen, a lot older than I am. She had a lot of problems with her teeth. Sometimes you added a lot of water to her food to make it easier for her, especially after she had teeth removed. I don’t think she had too many left. You called her Twinks and put a Chanel bow in her hair. Maija, one of your girlfriends, loved her very much and made a big fuss over her when we all walked together.

I came into her life long after she was part of our household. She was shy, “reactive,” and smelled of old things I find along the beach. When I was a puppy, I tried to steal her food, but she told me immediately her bowl was off limits. I admired her for that. I have kept my nose out of her food ever since. When it came to important things like food and treats, she let me know what she wanted

People asked me if I miss her. It’s hard to explain to you how we were together. When we drove to California, I took up a lot of space in the back of the car and she usually curled up next to me. Every once in awhile, she would put her head on my back, very gently, but mostly she kept her distance if she could. We shared the same dining space, but were very, very different kinds of dogs. I am an extrovert. She is an introvert. (Remember, I have a very large vocabulary.) It may have looked like we weren’t paying attention to each other. She didn’t talk to me much. She barely wagged her tail at me, but when I came home from my many adventures being a therapy dog, wagging my tail like mad and jumping around and leaping into the air as usual, she was at the door looking quietly at me, telling me she was still my elder no matter how many exciting people pet me. After a quick, sneaky, sidelong sniff to find out where I had been, she resumed her spot in a curled up position under the dining room table, away from everybody.

When I was off doing a job, I liked knowing she was home taking care of business. Before she didn’t come home, she took her walks separately because she was slow and couldn’t go further than around the block. She received her daily meals, her pets, our walks together around the neighborhood without nagging, not like me. She accepted everything with love. She taught me gratitude and acceptance. I am grateful she was my sister, and I accept that she is no longer with us.

Hello again, I am working to get this post to you.

This is Oliver again after a long time. I am going to try to stay in touch despite some technical difficulties. I have been storing up so many stories and I have had you in mind for a long time, but have been afraid to write because for many months all my words were swallowed up in some kind of strange Nowhere Land. I am still very much alive.

I am going to send this out as a second trial, first to my mother, then we’ll see what happens.

OLIVER’S ADVICE: NEVER GIVE UP.

My life is never quiet, but I have been on duty for the last month, so I haven’t had a lot of time to let my public know what I’ve been doing. Some of you have been wondering when you would hear from me. I am back.

I have kept up with my usual activity of shoe stealing and patrolling the neighborhood from my perch on the lake. However, my main job has been to watch over you as you recover from yet another surgery, this one on your right hip. You are already taking me for walks, me on your left and a walking pole on the right. We are a fabulous team-you and I. l am very proud of us. You tell me to walk slowly and I mind you. I am so incredibly well-behaved, especially when you keep me on a short leash.

We have had lots of company. Friends have brought flowers and cards and food. I love our friends.

In just a few weeks, I am back on duty at three schools…Kenwood Elementary, Southwest High School, and the University of Minnesota. I can’t wait to see everyone and to let them pet me. We are also going to try our luck at the airport. It may be too much commotion for me. (In case you want to know, other words for commotion are brouhaha, hoopla and tumult. My goal is to expand your vocabulary as well as mine). So, as I was saying, we are going to try the airport too. Oh, dog! That could be a lot of fun. I will have many stories. Stay tuned.