Old Dogs

Had to go the barn in the way before early, still chilly from night, dark time this morning. Couldn't remember whether I turned the milk cooler on last night or not.

I had to check. It is an obsession of mine. Did I turn it on or did I forget and spoil a night's milking? So far I have always remembered, or someone has reminded me, but there is a first time for everything I guess.

We have no young dogs any more. The "puppies: are 8 or 9. Mike will be 15 next month and Gael is 13.

And it shows. Mike can barely walk, with one bad hind leg and the old dog vestibular disease, and he is mostly blind and deaf. He no longer barks.

Ever. Even strangers can come and go right next to his crate and he doesn't even know they are there. His life is a round of dog food, sleeping and staggering through the house trying to find me or Liz, his people. When he walks by I put my hand in front of his nose, so he can know where I am and rest for a while....before he starts circling from room to room again.

He was so much dog when he was young. Taking on bulls and putting them where we wanted them. Herding heifers so well that the time came that I didn't even have to open his kennel run any more. They saw my hand go up to the latch and ran for the barn when I wanted them in. He just worked himself right out of a job.


My ever shadow, every moment of his life if he could. So smart that in the sleeping beside the bed years he only got up with me if I put on my glasses. If I didn't he knew I was coming back. If I did he knew I was up to stay. Now he sleeps downstairs because he can't get up them any more. It is sad to see him reduced as he is, but he tries...oh how he tries.

Gael has cancer and the old dog V disease. Getting around is a bit easier for her, but not much. She does still bark and take an interest in things just the same though.

This morning I let them out while I put my shoes on for my little check the tank excursion.They need to be out for a long, long time, because Mike forgets to "go". I don't know what we will do when winter comes....

When I headed to the barn, Gael knew where I was going, in that border collie way that they have. I told her to go back to the house, but she pretended to be deaf in that other way they have and trucked right on over to the barn yard gate. It is a long walk for an old dog. Behind us Mike let out a muffled woof.
He never barks.
But somehow he knew something was going on and he was missing it.

I gave Gael a firm "stay" at the gate and went on to check the tank
Which was turned on.
It always is.

She was waiting at the gate, quietly watching for me when I came back....in that way that they have. The night was redolent of passing skunk and something autumny blooming. The late summer insects were nearly deafening and the moon was full and fine. However, what caught my mind, as Gael and I walked back to link up with Mike and come into the house, was the fine and forever, as long as they live, loyalty and work ethic of grand old dogs.

Oh, and the love too. When the work is long done and the days reduced to the least common denominator, those old dogs love like it was their job.....and maybe it is.