What the dogs teach us...

We were definitely not dog people, and for a long time, we regularly scoffed at the dog people. Ha! Look at them! Picking up poop, repeatedly yelling after their dogs, following their dogs around on leashes…ridiculous! We swore we would never become dog people. We were sheep people, cat people, chicken people. We were not getting a dog.

But after moving to 40 acres with our sheep, and realizing we had a large coyote population around us, we knew we might need help. So, we became working dog people. Infinitely more important and respectable, we told ourselves. Our dogs would have a purpose, they would be well trained, they would LISTEN! We read books, researched, talked to experts…we weren’t just going to be dog people now, we would be the best dog people we knew.

And since their arrival, there has been a lot of training, listening, and working, but mostly on our part. If you’ve ever been around livestock guardian dogs (Anatolian Shepherd/Great Pyrenees to be exact) then you know they have a mind of their own. One of the things that makes these dogs so amazing is that they are able to discern between a chicken they should not eat and a squirrel that they should. Or which person they should love and lick and which one they should bark and growl at. They can see and hear things that we can’t, and they will literally lay down their life to protect you or your sheep or your duck or whatever else you ask them to protect. Our 150 lb. beast, Odin, will gently nuzzle our cat, while simultaneously having the jaw strength to kill a wolf or a bear.

The main thing they have taught us is patience. When you take Odin for a walk, you don’t know ahead of time how long it will take or where you will go. You cannot rush the process and you need to stop regularly to look around, sniff the air, consider the view. Sometimes if you have a serious talk with him and ask him nicely to follow you back to the house he will look you in the eye with a soul searching expression as if to say…silly person, don’t you know this is what we need to do now. He is an old soul, a Zen master.

Circe, on the other hand, will radiate pure 100 lb. puppy joy sometimes, inspiring you to run and jump and just act silly, but also stop regularly to sniff every single thing you encounter. She is a shrewd hunter, but also completely trusting as she lays on the floor with her legs spread wide and her tongue lolling out.

They are both ridiculous and they teach us to be ridiculous sometimes too.

They do take their sheep work very seriously, and will perch on the hill above the flock sitting very majestically while watching the landscape. Circe will bark at any ominous cricket fart just to make sure she is warding off all signs of danger. Odin will reserve his barks for the most important things…a coyote, an antelope, a fluttering plastic bag, a squirrel.

They make us get out of bed every morning, early, to take a walk regardless of the weather. They show us the bugs and find the best spots to dig. When a bird flies overhead, they stop to watch it, making sure it isn’t a threat to their flocks of hens and sheep. When they sleep, they do so with depth and abandon. They can snore for hours, and then jump at a moment’s notice, ready to go kill bears or squirrels as needed. A fresh laid egg is the most precious gift, and they will sit at attention, drooling and docile until you give it to them. Whereupon they will carefully carry their egg in their mouth to a quiet spot, crack it open, and gently suck out the yolk before eating the shell.

The other day, I lost my hat somewhere in a 10 acre pasture. My brown handknit lambswool hat that I bought special yarn for and made myself for Christmas. I had pretty much accepted that it was gone forever in a pit of mud and rock. When I went to walk Odin the next morning, he saw me put on a bright pink hat (definitely not my normal look) and looked at me tilting his head as if to say “that’s not right.” When we got outside, he promptly dragged me up to the pasture and right to a spot in the middle of the 10 acres. And there was my hat. Ground into the dirt and soggy, but still perfect. Odin looked at me like.."there, THAT is your hat, why did you leave it out here silly human?”

We are dog people now.