Got 4 More Just Like Her Back Home!

   
   

     To say the least, Roz is a show stopper...
     Take a big white dog sporting a bright pink vest down any hallway and in no time she's holding court, working to both protect total strangers (who don't know they're being herded) while learning to allow them to mussy-up her face in her "Pet Me I'm A Therapy Dog" career move...

     But the funniest (and most consistent) response is when we pull out the phone to start bragging on the others...

     Number 1 question asked:
     "What kind of dog IS she?"
    (Answer: Great Pyrenees)
     Second question: "How much does she weigh?" (Answer: 75 pounds as of her last vet visit; she's gained at least 5 since we've been here...)

     But the eyes really pop open when I say "But she's just a puppy...Just 8 months old...she's FAR from full grown~"

     And in our never-ending efforts to educate the world on matters of Pyrenees dogs with goat-herding talents while introducing one that leapt off the farm to start her own career as a therapy dog, we can't help but laugh
                                                     ..........at Hix's big head!

(Seen here the day I left...Don't you KNOW these Shepherd people are grateful I didn't tote him in for training!)

     Nope. Some things are best left alone...
     Like Hix...back on the farm with the kids ...
     (After all, somebody's gotta watch out for those wiley coyotes!)

Making God Laugh

   

    Certainly not the way I'd planned it... But anymore I'm living proof that time is an illusion and those folks thinking they can manage it have never lived on a farm.

     Let's see if I can paint you a picture...

     So yesterday it is discovered that one of my pups is no longer a pup. (How to put this delicately....? Hmmm. Rosebud's in heat.)

     For those of you unfamiliar with the timing element on this little scenario, it's really quite simple. God lives for sevens. You've got 7 days of warning. (Good luck knowing precisely when the count begins.) You've got 7 days in which to act (or avoid). You've got a 7 day cooling off period. By way of dog behavior, this nets you 21 days of male dogs going bonkers; and 14 days (broken down before and after) when your girl will eat their heads off like a preying mantis.

     Wasn't sure precisely the moment we started our count, but let's just say Rosebud had a rough night. (And TJ and Hix weren't exactly stress free, though they didn't care.)

     Came out this morning to find her stuck between two lovers (one being her uncle TJ, the other being her brother, Hix...neither being a good thing for Rosebud). My two males are fighting for her (dis)honor like Arthur and Lancelot, meanwhile, my Gwinevere Rosebud is standing her ground, but wants the heck out of dodge.

     Leaping to action, I pull her from the brawl, hoisting her safely inside our new barn (doors for which we've not perfected). Bolting her securely inside, I make my way to the side dutch door, hoping to avoid the two Cujo like males now pining away. 

   

      But I am no match for Hix, who on his hind legs, now stands a good 7 feet tall (who knew?) Having closed the bottom half of the dutch, I was not prepared for him to attempt a pole-vaulted leap across the upper opening, but seeing it in his eyes, I knew he was going to try. In a moment of reactionary brilliance, I reach for the upper half of the door just as he lunged when SLAM. I am in!  Only problem: I am LOCKED in, with no inside latch to let me out...

     Rosebud breathes a sigh of relief, circles three times and hits the hay. (Fortunately, we did have a lot of it, along with her food and fresh water.) What we did not have was a doorknob.

     On the other side are two raging hormonal male dogs, now chewing and clawing their way through the cracks. Meanwhile, Rosebud (who has not slept a wink since this all started) curls up in a goat stall as if to say "Yeah. Work it out Mom. I really need sleep."

     The good news (thank God for this part) I did have my cell phone (and amazingly, it was charged). The bad news, I had to call Thurman, who, after laughing his fool head off, did come to my rescue. On the other side of the barn doors I hear the barking go distant, and then I hear Thurman approaching with, "I dunno boys...What do you think? Think we should leave 'em in there?"

     It's a battle of the sexes. 3 against 2...which makes me think (now that we're out) God must be female...
     On the other hand, who would do this to her own?

      

     

     

     

The Difference in Farm Dogs

     Last night the temps dropped drastically...marking the first blast of our winter season.
     Today, on three separate occasions, I glance out a window to see four big white dogs appearing as dead.
     Turns out, my Great Pyrenees were NOT dead...Rather, they were sleeping....deeply....their first real sleep of the season...(I've no doubt they're kin to things that hibernate; I can't tell you how much these dogs love cold weather.)
     Once I knew they were fine, I resumed my normal farm chore duties. They lifted their heads long enough to see it was me...thumped their tails from the ground to say "Yeah. It's you. If it's important, I'll get up. But only if it's really important..." (By the time I opened the gate with food, turns out, it was important after all.)
     Honestly, we were probably closer to calling 911 in the summer months; but they weren't so readily visible then. In the heat of the summer, each dog hunkered down under the shadiest part of each rock, each tree, each free standing shed...Doing his/her best to stake out cool turf. (It's the hot that'll get 'em...The cold...? Well, cold they can't get enough of...Cold is their friend...They are just now entering their happy season.)
     I head out tonight to toss one last bale of hay to the kids...
     I scream "TJ!" thinking "what if I was wrong about all this?" (I kid you not. He really did appear as dead.)
     But just like my first yell of the morning to Rosebud...TJ gives one solid tail thump to ground as if to say "Fooled ya." (Or else he was saying, "Finally...a decent round of sleep...")
 

Gimme a "P" !! (Not YOU, Hix!)

     Ok. Anyone who knows anything about Pyrenees know they live to protect. Around here, I have so many, it can sometimes get confusing as to who's protecting what, so we keep a chart.
     TJ (alpha male) protects the goats.
     Rosey (TJs sister) protects the girl. (That would be me.)
     Rosebud (Rosey's daughter) pretends to protect her uncle TJ but mostly protects the perimeter at night.
     That leaves Hiccapup, (aka Hix) who has taken it upon himself to protect anything and everything that remains; his favorite being Minsky. (He'd like to protect Boo, though Boo is having no part of it, and now I know why.)

      I was deeply moved to watch Hix go above and beyond to let Minsky know he had her back. (Sadly, Minsky at nearly 15, is for all practical purposes deaf, so Hix (listen closely) whimpers in such high pitch decibels, she can (for a brief second) hear him; she feels him near).  Having reached for my camera to turn up the sound in this precious exchange, I had not paid attention to the image...until now. (Had to laugh to keep from crying...This SO sums up my week, my night, my life...)