A Good Dog

Sometimes I call my dogs the wild things. Sometimes I call them much worse. But, sometimes I look at them and think, "What good dogs." Last night, Tag won the honors when we had guests over. He sat, instead of jumping. He was gentle with the kids. He was the greeter. He laid quietly during the meal, never begging or being obnoxious. Caeli won good dog honors tonight. Dark had hit, and I realized we were going to have storms and lots of rain overnight. The ram and ewes have windbreaks in the pasture but little shelter when the weather turns nasty. So, I rushed to bring them into a horse stall for overnight. The ram, who is hopeful to find an interested ewe anywhere, walked into the stall, but the ewes didn't follow. Rather than chase them around the paddock, I locked the ram in a stall, and went to get Caeli. "Away," I told her. She circled the sheep and then laid down to watch the ewes walk single file into the stall, as easy as that. By myself, it would have taken minutes or hours of mind games and cajoling and foot stomping to get those ewes into a stall. "You are a good dog," I told her.