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She was great with sheep or cattle, and would bound beside the horse,
always full of energy… a border collies best of course.
We’ve never owned another breed, but these collies we address,
we’ve had a few upon the farm… but none as good as Jess.

Two of her pups still work for us, and both bear her working trait,
Jess always kept them both in line, and ruled the dinner plate.
When de-horning, crutching, shearing, or the time of need to press,
one whistle from our Father… and first on the job was Jess.

And when her time came for motherhood, Dad never feared the worst,
because he knew that top security, for her pups came first.
If us kids were out of order, one growl would have us guess,
pat her pups then move away… leave the mothering to Jess.

Jess never was the playful type; she preferred her working life,
a stranger walking to the door would often feel the strife.
Not that she bit to leave a scar she just needed to assess
the territory that they stood on… did all belong to Jess.

Oh yes she would protect us, and front position she would take.
Once stood between both Ron and I, and a big red-bellied snake.
But that’s just one of many times, for our Mum to say, “God bless,
we could have lost one of you boys… if it hadn’t been for Jess.”

But time became her master, her sight got dim her legs wore out.
Instinct made her struggle, in the only life she knew about.
The pups were leaving her behind; she was coping less and less.
Many evenings Dad sat on the porch… looking down at Jess.

Dad took the gun and slowly walked. Jess followed down the track.
Mum, Ron and I cried at the table, when only Dad came back.
What broke our hearts most of all, and left an anguish inside me,
was little Brucey asking, “Why won’t Jess come and eat her tea?”

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