Our son, Howard, was with us for several days earlier in the week.
This is his short-haired Border Collie, Katy.
Katy was adopted as a young dog, hungry, frightened, her hide scarred with cuts from barbed wire.
During her early months with H. she was inclined to be suspicious of strangers and snappish.
It is still not a wise idea for a stranger to approach when she is 'guarding' Howard's truck.
She is a lovely, intelligent, well-mannered dog--but her herding instincts are strong.
When she is visiting she wants to herd the cats.
Katy tried to round up Willis who spat at her and promptly shimmied up a handy tree.
Katy has bounced and yelped--trying to make friends with Willis.
Willis doesn't wish to be friends with Katy.
"I can stay up here longer than you can stay down there!"
"Don't even think about climbing my tree!"
"Has she gone?"
"I think she went away in the truck. Maybe I'll come down."
"It's not that I'm afraid of dogs, mind you, I just don't want to play."
"Down I come! Its my dooryard, after all!"
Willis, back on dooryard patrol.