Life settled in to a daily routine which always included some kind of a remodeling project. It was fun to see our ideas becoming a reality. I suppose I should have known that having a dog was inevitable. After all, who has 7 children and 32 acres and doesn't have a dog? But I resisted for a long time and was comfortable in thinking I was in charge even though the subject had come up several times. Wynn thought the children needed a pet and he had noticed that they weren't always comfortable around large dogs, so the answer was definitely to own one. Mrs. Hoffman, one of his school teachers, told him that there were two beautiful collies at the pound. She wanted to rescue them but didn't want both of  them and suggested that he take the other. He asked me how I felt about getting a collie and I said for atleast the fifth time, "I don't want a dog. They take as much work as another child." The subject was dropped again, anyway I thought it was. Then one night we took the children and went to the high school auditorium to a play. We were just starting the intermission when Wynn piped up and said that Landon needed to go to the bathroom. I started to get up. "No, I'll take him," said Wynn. "We'll be right back."  The intermission ended and still no Wynn. The play continued, but Wynn and Landon did not come back. Finally, right near the end the two slipped quietly back into their seats. "Where have you been?' I whispered. "Just ran into somebody," said Wynn. We watched the play again. "Well, you were sure gone a long time," I muttered. Landon was fidgeting next to his dad, barely able to sit still. Then he leaned over and said, "When are you going to tell her about the dog?"  "What dog?" I asked loud enough for the whole audience to hear. "The dog that's out in the car," said Landon.
The rest of the play was totally ignored. The whole family bustled out to the car to see the new dog. The door of the VW bus slid open to reveal and large majestic black, gold and white collie sitting in the doorway. Her long hair shining luxuriously in the moonlight. We named her Brit and that was the last time her hair ever looked like that. From then on she became a farm dog with burrs stuck in her hair and mud on her feet and even occasionally porcupine quills in her nose. But she was a great dog! She had been well-trained and was loyal and loving with the children. She could be a scary watch dog, circling any car that drove down the driveway and snarling at the occupants who certainly thought twice about getting out. I walked out one day to rescue some scoundrels that she had plastered up against their car. They wanted to borrow and jack but were too afraid to move. Brit lived with us for about thirteen years.