A Cowdogs Advice

Grip up, America!

Heeler

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I’m a young pup whose had a lot of adventure in a few years.

 

 

 

I came through the desert.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I was rescued and flew up north. 

 

 

 

 

 

I took the place of a great cowdog Ladysmith. In fact I’m next in a long line of great cowdogs I’m told.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Now I ramrod this mountain ranch, and am learning to lead with courage, yet kindness [just ask the horses – I haven’t chased them needlessly for most of the summer!].

 

 

 

 

 

 

We wrote about old dogs. https://cowdogsadvice.com/2023/10/what-to-do-with-an-old-cowdog/

 

And old trucks, old times and old friends.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It seems like this life is all about getting old.

 

And this is a season of old.

The grass is getting old, turning the hills and meadows that gentle tawny color; soon the trees will hint at fiery fall with a riot of autumn color.

 

 

I walk around here and visit the old tractor,

 

 

old Jeep,

 

 

 

 

 

old trucks.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I am too polite to call the boss old, but she walks with a limp sometimes, bent over and slower, especially since my old dad went home to heaven – nearly a year ago now.

 

 

 

The rocks we collected to build a new wall, are really quite ancient.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Even the sun this time of year, when it finally rises over the hills and stretches west, is old gold.

 

 

And I, sometimes twitchy and barking , relentlessly yip-yapping at any old thing,

am more often laying in the shade or by the horses, watching in wisdom,

like an old dog.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is an old season – the year is winding down, the expansive seasons are ending, and working hard and fast to complete projects before winter, makes us all ache and feel older.

 

 

Thing is, all those old things? They still work just fine! The tractor and the Jeep have aged like a fine buried bone, their usefulness matching anything new – and with a cool factor that is unmatched.

 

 

 

This season may be long and old, but promises a winter by the fire, watching the boss read good books, getting a fresh bone once in awhile,

 

 

anticipating seed catalogs and a plan to garden and plant more trees.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mom read this to me:

When I have been tested, I will come forth as gold.”  That is what we’re doing now –

working and walking into this amber season.

 

 

Old?

That’s just keeping on, going forward.

Welcome October!

 

Doggone Low Tech

by

Well, this old cowdog finally undid the technology that sends out my opinions to the world.

Perhaps it was my dog paws whacking the keys with too much dingo enthusiasm.

I’m told I drink like an alligator and drip a lot – maybe it was a little water.

I’m certain it was not dog hair in the delicate and secret interior of that flat metal suitcase we call a laptop.

 

Nonetheless, the infernal machine alerted the boss to a major cooling fan failure, then set about sabotaging my Heeler tales.

 

So, handicapped by tech failure, I offer a past tale from this low-tech dog:

 

 

Even a cowdog such as myself, who lives a decidedly backwoods rustic life, suffers under plenty of technology. But lately I’ve become a doggone low-tech dog. It’s been a cascade of tech failures that brought me here.

 

 

 

 

 

 

In our very rural country, they’ve finally started repairing the many miles of poor dirt roads. Now I’m a truck enthusiast, but riding these roads is beyond adventure. The deep potholes, pools, rocks and corrugated ridges make staying on the seat a test of balance, muscle and claw, I tell you.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They start grading, graveling, trying to make them better. And all the new sharp rocks started the tech cascade; we’ve had several flat tires this month. Two more today!

After that, mom’s tired old Explorer wouldn’t start. After checking battery and solenoid, we were resigned to replacing that infernal starter; thank goodness  Jess got it fixed.  She also cleaned it up , detailed the inside, and put new seat covers on. That old beater hasn’t looked so good in 20 years I hear!

 

 

On our second outing, the water pump went out; fortunately, it did so in town, and Jess and a merciful neighborhood mechanic got it fixed. But tires and internal combustion – this is all pretty low-tech failures.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Well, the modern world doesn’t penetrate our neck of the woods much anyway. I don’t have to have a smartphone in my paw at all times, I don’t wile away my life looking at frivolous stories and social media, commenting on a stranger’s story or looking at crazy cats.  Our use of a cell phone is primarily for safety on the long drive to town, and even then there is no signal in the country air, much of the way.

 

 

 

Well, mom dropped the fragile little thing, and now it’s splintered screen bars any possible use. Oh, you can still call and it will ring – it just can’t respond through it’s delicate broken glass portal.

Now I’m told there was a time when a phone was a sturdy black device, made of unknown hard material that could probably make a decent self-defense weapon also, as well as survive a nuclear bomb – and still keep working. It probably would make an excellent chew toy. They could easily last 20 years and some are still ringing today!

This dainty thing isn’t that.

 

This old Heeler isn’t a big fan of social media. other than putting my antics, adventures and smiling face out there for other cowdogs to enjoy.  And it is fun to see family photos from people far away, some I may never even meet, except in a posted pic.

 

 

 

 

 

But I guess we expect such things to just work when we fire up the computer. This week my social media program just failed. Oh, my page comes up, little more than a static heading. I see I have messages and notifications, but all the clicks in the world display nothing more than a few vague gray blocks.

 

 

 

But when all these things quit working, we find how terribly unimportant they are.

 

 

No, I’m not advocating for a totally tech-less world, but there is plenty to do when worldly invention fails.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here’s my list, things I did just this week:

 

 

Go for a walk in the wet morning grass.

 

 

 

 

Weed the garden. Do it again.

 

Plant, keep planting, think for more places to plant. 

 

 

 

 

 

Send up a prayer of thanks for the rain, because so far we haven’t had to water all that was planted.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sit on the porch and watch the hummingbirds.

 

 

 

 

 

Listen to the birds sing. Watch new ducks – they are funny!

 

 

Lay in the meadow and watch the clouds, looking for the cowdogs in the sky!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Walk along the creek, watch the water and listen to the current dance over the rocks; it is still plenty high with every rain adding more.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Herd everything that needs herding, monitor all the critters in my world.

 

 

 

Explore all the changes wrought in the countryside – from flooding water, passing critters, falling branches and trees – imperceptible transformations of time.

 

 

 

 

Talk to others – friends, strangers, anyone you meet. I only practice this when I go for a truck ride – there better not be any strangers out here on my ranch!

 

 

Play with some kids. Never miss a chance to pet and play with a dog.

 

 

Swim and wade.

 

Roll, scratch, chew – yeah!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pray for others. Sing praises for the gift of this life.

 

 

Leave pawprints in the mud, in the day, in the memory, in the swift passage of time.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I suppose all that modern technology will all come back eventually, but I’m not waiting for it.

 

If the phone did ring, I wouldn’t hear it. And I have no time to stare at a screen now anyway.

 

 

“We also glory in tribulations, knowing that tribulation produces perseverance; and perseverance, character; and character, hope.”  Romans 5:3-4

No Straight Paths

by

It is still like summer here, we are blessed with warm sunny days, and nights that only hint at cooler weather.

 

I have been up north many seasons now. I don’t remember anything special about this time of year in the Arizona desert,

but here, it is always an inspiring world for me!

 

 

 

 

 

 

We have rain, 3 days of it, I hear. Yesterday, I felt the breeze cooling down, but it is not cold.

The nights still allow most of the garden to keep growing,

quite a blessing in the Northern Rockies, just past the Autumn Equinox.

The longhorns left today, and most of the cattle are leaving the high country.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There are so many new smells; the woods, dampened in fresh rain, come alive for me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I can tell where the deer pass, where a turkeys feather brushed through the roses, where the hungry birds land on willows by my creek,

 

 

 

 

 

and where the infernal squirrels and chipmunks scamper around MY porch.

 

 

 

 

I go out in the dark now, since dawn comes later; I usually bark to let everyone know there is a Heeler on duty, but I don’t linger too long as I really don’t like the dark.

 

 

There is a lot for me to smell, watch, chase, control. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mom says there are no straight paths anymore. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I don’t think she likes the system I’ve developed to direct and guide her, by walking slightly in front and leaning in, but this is necessary because nipping her heels has been discouraged.

 

 

 

I wait patiently at the door, grring a little, to motivate her to hurry. Apparently my length in the front of the door slows her down.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

When we go out, I stop on the top of the steps to survey and ensure everything is safe. Usually mom waits patiently for me, but I hear “MOVE” or “Let’s GO” far too often.

 

I am certain MOVE is not my name!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Out and about, I may stop suddenly on the trail to explore a smell or track – this may cause mom to trip over me, but so far she hasn’t fallen or actually stepped on me, so it is OK.

 

 

When she is out working, I usually lay in the shade and keep an eye out for intruders. If it is the UPS intruder, I just bark a lot, but he brings me a biscuit! There are times I help her work because every job goes better when a cowdog sticks her nose into it.

I try to be a blessing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There are times I run zig-zags around the place, for the sheer joy of it. At times I have to furtively weave a trail up the hill, to chase off deer or the neighbors cows, because mom has made it clear that is not my job.

Because I cleverly and casually work my way out, I get in a little bark and chase in spite of her unreasonable rules.

 

 

 

Back in the house,

there is nothing efficient about the kitchen layout. I position myself between the sink and the stove, so mom has to make a wide loop around me as she cooks; if I didn’t, she may forget to have me test dinner.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I also push my pointy nose in next to her when she’s cutting cheese or meat, or I hear the microwave. She has to go around, and I am hard to ignore.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So having a Heeler means no one will walk straight paths again, because we are here to guide, influence, turn, protect. Of course I make those extra miles worth it though. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We do all have one straight path however. That is the one us cowdogs take straight to your heart!

 

 

 

“Show me your ways, Lord, teach me your paths. Guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior, and my hope is in you all day long.” – Psalms 25:4-5

Beary Season Again

by

Well a week ago we had a lot of rain – I checked the rain gauge, and it was 2″ in two days! Everything is green again, and it is warm this week.

 

 

 

 

 

 

I lay in the shade and watch mom work like a squirrel getting ready for winter – well, a lot slower and not so twitchy, but as intent.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Of course I help too, riding the 4-wheeler as we check the orchard, gather rocks for the foundation wall, put away hoses, and dozens of other jobs, big and small. Because it may be that cruel deception of summer again, but I know winter is coming.

 

 

 

 

 

 

This will be my 4th winter; you may remember I arrived on St Paddy’s Day, but we had a huge blizzard in April, so I really got in another whole winter in my first few weeks here! In case you missed it, here is my introductory story:

https://cowdogsadvice.com/2023/03/introducing-redhawk-rose-the-flying-heeler/

 

 

It seems every critter around knows winter as well as I, and knows it is coming soon.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The deer, who have graciously passed flowers, gardens, bushes all summer, have come down from the mountains, a hoard of voracious munching machines, intent on mowing down every green plant they can reach!

 

 

 

They stripped the sunflowers, nipped off Marigold blooms, even barged through garden fences to eat all the green tomatoes!

 

 

Don’t ever believe any growing plant is safe from them! They even eat milkweed pods!

 

Them, and every other critter, come in for a free buffet!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I, however,  am not allowed to run them out of the yard. I do it in stealth though, casually loping past them, staring and veering as I close in – and that usually works. I cannot stop them after dusk or early morning however.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Which brings us to our second season of bears. You remember we had plenty of them in the Spring –

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They are just starting to look around here again.

 

 

They come in for berries. Chokecherries, Hawthorns, Rose-hips and Serviceberries.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And they love apples.

 

 

They again stripped one of our favorite trees, and we wait to pick others, always a gamble between too early [late ripening fruit needs some cold nights], and too late [bears and raccoons!]. Oh, and this year some late frosts ensured there were just a lot fewer apples to go around!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We will soon wrap the little evergreens, because dozens of turkeys will show up and clean needles off the trees, but I think they really are looking to clean up after the chickens and horses.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I guess all critters, wild or not, are on a relentless quest to prepare for winter too.

 

 

It seems getting ready for the leanest season means herding a lot of wild animals, for this little Dingo! Don’t get me started on squirrels, magpies, chipmunks and bobcats!

 

 

I’ll be ready to come in and rest when the snow finally comes, but for now it’s go dog go!

 

 

“I can do all this through him who gives me strength.” – Philippians 4:13

Work with urgency

by

We’re in another holiday weekend, this one called Labor Day I hear. For a cowdog who always keeps busy,  sounds like just a normal day to me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

And we have a few surprises to mark the holiday here: Some snow in the high country in August!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The nights are cooler here in the foothills too, but the days warm up enough to get this dog looking for good shade too.

A long time ago, this day was declared a national holiday, the first Monday of September, to recognize the contributions of American workers to the achievements and developments in the nation. The Labor Movement also promoted Labor Sunday, the day before, to focus on the related spiritual and educational growth. 

 

 

 

 

 

Back then, everyone held parades, picnics and community amusements. Nowadays, maybe there aren’t enough workers to put on an event, since it seems like people don’t want to work.  A government that pays people to NOT work is a government preparing for a culture of kept and controlled people, not freedom and the independence to make your own way. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You can trust a working dog when I say, we are all made to work – to sweat and build, to achieve, reach higher, to have a purpose and value.

 

 

 

 

We need to be able to accomplish something, add some good to the world, stand back at the end of the day to see a task done. I’ve been there to know the satisfaction of looking down a long straight fence-line, every post driven true, wire strung tight, built to keep the stock inside and safe. Now that feels good!

 

 

In this season, as long warm days are waning and nights hint of coolness, this weekend marks the unofficial end of summer. There is an urgency I feel now, to use up summer, to get a lot done. We spend a lot of time near or in water, along with cutting weeds, cleaning up brush, and getting outside jobs done all around the ranch. Really, I mostly watch these jobs from the shade.

 

For some, this is a big weekend for camping, and maybe big fish!

 

 

 

 

The boss makes lists of all the “outside” jobs to get done now, and the harvesting and canning continue, too.

 

 

The dehydrator is running on the porch, and sometimes there are sweet crispy treats that I get to sample. Peaches were not my favorite, but I do like beets and beans. Later there will be venison sticks and jerky; I stay close and am the official taste tester then!

 

 

 

 

 

 

The days are near perfect most of the time, warmth and sunshine making the light a precious gem to be absorbed but cannot be saved away like the jewel-colored jars the boss puts up.

 

 

 

The trees have not been frosted into gold yet, but the dry weather is taking away their rich green shades.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The chickens go in earlier every evening.The egg supply is waning.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Soon cattle will be gathered from the high plains and brought down to their home places.

 

 

I spend a lot of time supervising the labor – moving cows, checking on the pullets, sniffing out creek bottom activities each dawn, and generally ramrodding all the work.

 

 

 

This season brings a strengthening urgency, somewhere between the heat of August and the frost of October, as we wring the last pleasure from summer and prepare for winter. Out here it takes a lot to be ready, and harvest is always looking forward.

 

 

We finish projects, clean up, put things away, finishing summer with a late yard sale to clear out clutter. It is a time to balance relishing every last moment of summer, and still work like a cowdog.

 


 

So as we celebrated National Dog Day, then Rainbow Bridge Day, and now Labor Day – be sure to keep busy playing with your dog, too!

 

 

 

Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.

Matthew 11:28

 

Good Morning

by

Regular readers here know that I’ve been working on virtues – those strong charecteristics that raises the bar for this better dog. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Frequently  I meander off as surely as I follow my nose and run the creek bottoms of a morning.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But I’m never far from standing strong, even if they don’t make it to this page every week.

This week though, I’m going to go calm and peaceful [or as much as a Heeler can!]. Because summer is swiftly running toward autumn, and time is slipping away with a speed I cannot match.

 

Oh we have been blessed this year with frequent rain, yet missed most of the wind, hail and floods. Days have been sunny and warm, shifting to thunderous dark clouds and rainfall by evening. And the next day dawns with clear skies again – can it get any better than that?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

What a special summer – few are like this. In some way, every day and every season holds unique blessings.

So this week, I gaze on my world every fresh bright morning, grateful for whatever comes, and

just taking in the calm, the peace. I know it won’t last – nothing does. But I know it is here now and I won’t waste one moment.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So I listen to birds, watching the hummingbirds hover on feeders, and zip away to opening flowers. I hear the crazy woodpeckers flitting in to their favorite treat, loudly chirping the arrival. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There are hundreds of all sorts of birds, some cussing me out for laying in their territory. Others are the polite guests they should be, just busy gathering seeds.

 

Mornings hold this singular peace that disappears with the drying dew.

 

 

 

The quiet is rare.

The sun lingering behind the eastern ridge is full of promise.

Growing light is anticipation.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Every single morning is a blessing and a gift.

 

And every morning in August is time to celebrate national dog month!

 

 

I don’t know what that may mean for this old cowdog. Maybe extra treats, even a ride for a pup cone!

 

 

 

 

 

 

It should mean no more dogs in shelters, no more puppy mills, no more backyard breeders, and a warm safe home for every canine on earth.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Do your part this month and always – and never miss a morning!

 

Satisfy us in the morning with your unfailing love,
    that we may sing for joy and be glad all our days.   Psalm 90:14

Make Hay While the Sun Shines

by

 

It is high summer here, and time to make hay while the sun shines, as they say. But around here, that is a real job, not just a folksy old saying. And we are especially glad to have hay, as there are year’s of endless drought.

 

 


 

We had plenty of early rain and lots of grass, but of course there always seems to be more rain at the worst possible time of harvest, too.  Seems like a merciful God has a sense of humor, giving us all a chance to take ourselves lightly.

 

This year it has rained daily for weeks. Of course for some, it rained after hay was down. But it is sunny and hot again, and maybe it will dry, be turned and baled and be OK.

 

 

 

 

But we should always have good work to do. It is a necessary purpose for all people and for us working dogs, too. God establishes the work of our hands and paws.

 

Hard Work

In the heart of a cowdog, we have a relentless drive and purpose. I knew from a young age about herding livestock. I have learned a lot and don’t always do it right, but it is also born in my soul, to do the job I was made for.  And I do it with relentless perfection. And sometimes I take it upon myself to decide how and when, overdo it, and chase the wrong horse. Well, I chase the one that runs, of course – the others ignore me!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I guess that is what you would call a work ethic. And everyone needs that, to accomplish something, to contribute to the good of the world, to have a purpose and find reason in what we trade our time for.

I have spent whole days trailing the herd, darting off in the brush to bring back a wayward bovine, trotting around the perimeter, keeping one eye on the boss for marching orders, seeing for myself what needs done and doing it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nothing worth having comes easy, and it comes down to the values we hold inside – diligence, intensity, care, dedication and discipline – practicing all that even when no one is watching.

 

 

 

At the end of the day, I rest in the shade, get a drink and a cool-down in the creek,

 

 

relish a bowl of good food and sleep at last.

 

 

It is good to be tired out from a day like that. Happiness depends on it.

 

 

Everyone Can Do Something

Sprout helps with chores.

I don’t understand why kids grow up without the drive and purpose of hard work.  Everyone can do something, and everyone needs a job. Even Sprout helps out, from pitching hay to the cows to helping his dad drive the skidsteer. His little brother helps too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The boys always feed the cats and I and helps their grandma feed the cows. Already they take care of the henhouse alone, and fix my dinner, too. Even the smallest child knows how to give treats.

 

 

 

 

Easy brings nothing to make the world well or better. Do not depend on someone in Washington to pay your way, because you only will become slave to them.

 

 

 

 

I’m don’t chase cows from dawn to dusk much anymore. Once in awhile, I need to run off those nuisance cows that get into the bosses flowers. I am supreme cowdog then!

 

 

 

 

But it is still my job to watch the perimeter and alert to visitors, critters and assorted rabble-rousers.

 

Sometimes I patrol from the porch

 

It is my job to guard the chickens. Sometimes, it is my job to herd those infernal wild turkeys away from the chicken’s dinner. I am foreman when hay is hauled.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And stacked. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I work to strengthen character, keep up skills and even learn a few new ones, to earn a good meal and sleep in peace still.

 

 

 

 

 

Live and work honorably, with an honest day’s work.  Have a purpose.

 

 

 

Being a joyful Heeler, I’m always ready to celebrate, and put everything I ‘ve got into it, with purpose.

 

 

 

Soon I’ll help Sprout celebrate a birthday, and coming up, I’ll enjoy National Soft Ice Cream Day, and National Bacon Lovers Day!

And I will try to do my best work then too!

 

 

 

Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord.

Colossians 3:23

Weather Grousing

by

You know by now this dog is one to be constantly awed by the panorama of the natural world,

welcoming the changing seasons with relish, an infernal optimist who finds something grand and lovely about rain, sleet, even wind.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

However, maybe with age, or possibly with the irritability that comes with a long spell of triple digit temperatures, I just want to hole up on the damp ground down by my shady creek.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Or, I’ll use my best vocals to grouse about the weather.

 

 

 

 

Recreational Weather Grousing may well be the next world class sport. Now in the midst of a summer inferno or flood, or drought, you may think that grumbling about the whims of the sky is a fitting topic of conversation in every circle, from daycare sandbox to the Oval office.

 

But I submit to you that a person, a dog, and a dog’s person –  should earn the right to gripe a bit about a capricious climate.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kid’s generally don’t mind what falls – or doesn’t – from the sky, finding entertainment in sun, rain, or snow. Sprout freely admits he loves snow, but is clearly as entertained by sun, rain and  – his favorite – mud.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’ve noticed that, while kids are seemingly oblivious to jet streams and cold fronts, they are nonetheless storing up records of every storm, so that someday, many years later, they can share historical highlights, when delicate children and grandchildren whine about the cold, the heat, or the long walk to school.

This is usually a sentence that begins “Why, when I was your age…” and ends with an example of how weather was much worse in the old days, as in “…I walked 10 miles to school, in the Blizzard of ’59 – the snow so deep I had to carry my pony!”

So, while they may be gathering ammunition for future weather-grousing, kids have not earned that right yet.

 

 

So age is one way to earn status in the sport of weather-grousing. Everyone, by retirement age, has seen enough wild atmospheric variety to bellyache a little, unless they spent those years in Hawaii, the Caribbean, or the original Garden. Us old cowdogs start to feel it in our bones; as intelligent and clever as we are, I bet we could predict the weather better than Gabriel Fahrenheit [yes, that fahrenheit] or Jim Cantore, if we could speak your language.

 

If you pay attention, some of us can tell you a storm is coming while the sky is still sunny!

 

 

 

 

Ranchers and farmers are born into a highly respected class of weather-grousers.

 

 

 

 

Mom learned this from a good friend, who ran a never-summer ranch on the west slopes of the Bridger Mountains. Living close to the earth, they keep an eye on the sky, and the payments and punishments that are hurled toward their fields are intimate.

 

 

 

 

Now understand that this old cowdog is not whining about the weather. Recreational weather grousing is definitely not a generalized constant complaint, but carefully crafted observation of the finer details outside.

 

If you have lived through what the popular media would call a “major weather event,” you get to tell stories and fuss a bit, though in these end-days of diverse weather in diverse places – hurricanes, tornadoes, firestorms and base-ball hail become just another near-death tale.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After you reach old age, however, these stories can be repeated continuously, having become historical lore.

The boss remembers the Wisconsin Tornado of 1959, though mostly from hearing the stories from those then Senior Weather-Grousers and seeing films of it annually as a warning during tornado season.

Just a couple of weeks ago, we had some serious hail here in the foothills, something that rarely happens. It was not as big as my retrieving balls, but as big as a golf ball I’m sure, sounding like cannon balls on the metal roof.

This month there has been record-breaking highs, hail, inches of rain, and lightning caused fires all around.

If we didn’t have to weather the weather, conversation would virtually cease, as this is the main icebreaker and most common topic of discussion. If we lived in a perfectly harmonious environment, could we fully appreciate the delightful creation of a spectacularly powerful Creator?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Would we then believe that we – mere mortals –  had control over our world?

 

 

 

 

Watching hail wipe out a garden, on its way to pummel the car…waking to three feet of pristine snow…glorying in a long-awaited downpour – keeps us humble and gives us something to talk about.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mercifully, in our little valley, we aren’t on fire or coping with floods right now; people in those predictaments don’t have time for weather grousing, but sure will have some stories to tell later. Weather grousing should always be seasoned with plenty of prayer.

 

 

Right now, I’d invite you to join me in a rousing bout of weather-grousing – but it’s just too dang hot!

 

 

“The sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night.”

Psalm 121:6

Bloom

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Well it is suddenly high summer here and everywhere else. I can tell because, even though just a few weeks ago it was near freezing overnight, and we had some good snowstorms just last month, now it is HOT!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We have many summers that never get to 90. This may not be one of them.

 

 

It is not nearly as hot here as most places, but I hear we’ll be flirting with 90 degrees this weekend.

 

 

 

 

That is no fire for this desert dog! But I admit I sure like the cool nights, 50 degrees before sunrise, and being able to run down to the creek whenever I want.

 

 

 

Everything is in bloom now, too. All around the hay is being cut, and we saw dozens of trucks hauling fragrant green chopped barley from the fields.

 

 

 

 

 

Mom loves her flowers, and we have our favorite iris blooming, and plenty more.

 

 

 

 

There are so many colors, from sky blue to orange to black, and they make a lovely backdrop when a photogenic cowdog takes a break among them.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I like to lay in the cool patches of clover in the wildflower yard.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And we cut a few to bring inside, so the cats can enjoy them too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A bloom is encouragement – peace, promise and beauty!

 

 

 

 

Some wave loudly, saying “get ready for harvest!” 

 

 

 

 

 

Some are wild,

 

 

some carefully planted.

 

 

 

 

They may come early,

 

They may stay long through the hottest summer.

 

 

Some quietly remind us to be patient.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It may be a harvest of hay or grain, maybe the bounty of vegetables, or fruit to be picked when the nights get chilly again.

 

 

 

Colorful blossoms, favored by bees, birds and children, are one of the generous gifts our Maker has given us in summer.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Don’t miss them and don’t waste them. Each is a reminder of how precious and brief this summer is.

 

 

 

And remember to bloom where you are planted!

 

“The flowers appear on the earth; the time of singing has come.”

                                                                     Song of Solomon 2:12

Where Liberty Dwells

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                                                                                                                                                                          This post may contain affiliate links

 

This week marks the most important of days, next to Christmas, for us Red, White and Blue American Cattle Dogs. We celebrate Independence Day, when our country commemorates the passage of the Declaration of Independence by the Continental Congress on July 4, 1776.

 

 

“I pledge allegiance to the Flag of the United States of America,
and to the Republic for which it stands, one Nation under God, indivisible,
with liberty and justice for all.”

 

Do you know what a precious thing freedom is? Ask anyone in dozens of other countries, or any dog caged in a shelter – I hope you value the freedom and many blessings we have here – these days, it looks like we could lose them.

As a cowdog, all I can do is write and maybe bite a few socialist heels, but you people have the power to change the world – and to ensure American freedom is here for our future pups and grand-pups.

 

From the Cowdog Code – Honor the Flag

 

1. Always stand and salute – the military salutes, civilians should take off their hat and hold a hand over the heart.

2. Fly the flag on holidays, today, everyday. Say the pledge!

3. Handle it properly. Make it the highest, shine a light on it at night.

4. Never let it touch the ground, handle it with dignity and respect.

5. Never use the flag or flag pattern as clothing, bedding, or decoration in any manner.

[Oops! I did get dressed up for a photo shoot, and my life jacket has stars and stripes]

 

 

Remember that the most pets that go missing do so around the Fourth of July. Many of us fear the loud noises,  get scared and RUN! Please keep your dogs and cats safe and away from the celebration. Give them a thundershirt here  https://amzn.to/3An9WtU

B01FN4GW2M

 

or medicine – we recommend this; I have used it and find it calming to be sure.

https://www.homeoanimal.com/?rfsn=5647725.fc8afd

ANXIETY

 

Hugging us real tight and often is helpful, too.

 

 

 

 

Best of all, go for a drive, a long way from the ruckus. I hate the noise, but out here I don’t worry about fireworks and noise.

 

 

 

 

 

Most of all, have a safe and memorable celebration; pause for a moment, look at a flag waving in the breeze, think of the sacrifices that brought it to life, and give thanks.

 

 

 

 

 

Still just 24 hours, yet the longest of days

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God must have a sense of humor, and smile at our small hopes and expectations.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Last year, just 2 days before the official start of summer, it piled up a couple of inches of snow overnight, quickly dispatched with dawn by a driving rain. Some of the high mountain passes had a lot I heard.

This year, we had a week of storms  – rain, wind, a tornado or two – and hail that piled up like snow for some.

And for some, a winter storm warning on the weekend!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A few days ago we celebrated the summer solstice. Still just 24 hours, yet the longest of days. It is the most daylight we get in any one day this year.

It is light long before sun-up, by 4:30 in the morning, and even the rooster knows to start crowing early! And I can’t stay awake long enough for darkness, going to bed by 9:30 when it is still light.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We revel in this generous luxury, a true gift from God.

 

 

 

It is especially precious to those of us who know that, not only is darkness going to increase, but that darkness comes with the promise of winter. I’m torn between the joy of summer and the dread of shortening days!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Blessed with good rain so far, my world is lush and green, drawing in all that sunshine, everything growing like  – well, weeds!

Every day, I pick a good shady spot to supervise the frequent mowing and weed-wacking, encouraging the boss in her work with a smile and bark now and then.

 

I want to wallow in this extra light, with an urgency to use up every rich gold second, quick, before it gradually, almost imperceptibly, wanes into dusk.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

With all this daylight, we need to get out and not waste a second of it. I try to spend part of every long summer day in water. We all need it, and most everyone loves it in some form.

 

We wade in it,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

drink it,

 

 

 

 

 

 

play on it and in it,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

shake it off and dry in the sun,

 

 

 

or wait for it to freeze so we can fish through it, slide on it,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

or make snow dog angels in it!

 

 

 

 

 

But now it is summer. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Most of the cows have come up to the mountains and will graze the high country ’til fall.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The horses go to the high fir forests and escape the heat and flies, grazing the lush green meadows.

 

 

 

Gardens are planted, and it’s not quite time for haying or harvest. This year, the garden is reluctant, only now  escaping frost for a hot sun, still enduring chilly nights, even if they are short.

 

 

 

 

 

This dog knows the days are as long as we’ll ever get, so I think about bigger water.

 

How does a beautiful old boat fit in with cowdog wisdom?

 

 

 

For most of us cowdogs, the biggest puddle of water we see is a creek or horse trough [still good options to cool off at the end of a day moving cows!].  Well, my dad was an old cowboy, but he loved airplanes and boats too, maybe almost as much as sitting a good horse and working with me on the ranch.

He told stories of a Navy destroyer he once was on called the USS Henderson, DD786.

 

 

I can’t say I’m crazy about  boats and big water. I like my creek, but don’t care for big lakes and waves washing up under me. Boats are windy and noisy, but I’ve  gone because I stick to my people, no matter what weird fun they find.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The term “Steady as she goes” is an ancient mariners phrase. The captain of a sailing vessel would give the instruction to his helmsman [kind of like the cowdog on a ship I think]. “Steady as she goes” meant stay the course you are on.  Regardless of wind gusts or cross currents, stick with the compass heading. I believe this old nautical phrase still has meaning today, even though there is way more technology to guide a ship now. Think if we followed the advice to keep on with steady progress, not blown off course by storms and trouble.  Keep calm at the helm.

Get on the true course, hold steady and do not waver.

 

 

 

 

Some of the Apostles knew boats and water. They didn’t always get it right, but knew to hold strong. One said, “We are pressed on every side by troubles, but not crushed.”

 

 

There are a lot of storms right now in this world. Hold steady. Maybe an old cowdog could become a sailor after all.

 

 

No matter what vessel you’re steering –  steady as she goes, my friend. And make these longest 24 hours count!

 

 

“There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens –
 Ecclesiastes 3:1

 

 

 

Cowdog Strong

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I’ve never heard anyone call one of us cowdogs weak. Whether said as compliment or criticism, we are known for traits of strength. I am solid as a rock, granite- hard. I’ve heard it said, “That dog has bottom.” That means we are relentlessly, deeply powerful. We can run all day after cows and do just as good a job at sundown as at dawn when we started. We can cover rough country, get kicked by the rankest bovine, come right back. We can figure out what needs done, whether moving cows, disciplining the puppy, or ensuring our people know they are loved. We do it all with endless energy, smarts and heart. But there are a few other ways we are tough that you may not know about. So here is my Ladysmith List of unseen, unappreciated Heeler-strong traits.

1. Strong stomach – I know that connoisseurs and caring owners out there think a raw diet is just the best. I’m pretty discerning myself, most of the time, but I won’t pass up a good pile of aged horse poop either. There is nothing raw and fresh about a seasoned flat filet of road-kill, simmered for days on hot pavement and even fermented to bring out those healthy elements and aroma. And we will eat that with relish!   

 

 

2. Paws of iron – I have pads as tough as dried rawhide, and a little like flint. I think at times, scrambling over gravel, I have seen sparks. They are boots, cleats, ice crampons and dancing shoes. I am armed with rows of spiked nails. But they are soft when I reach out to comfort, laying a paw on dad’s knee and staring hard so he is assured that I feel his sorrow and worry; I lend him my joy, I pass cowdog power through that one paw touch.   

 

 

 

 

 

3. Shoulders of steel – these are to lean into our work, to lead the charge, to absorb the shock of a bumpy road, the heat of a high noon mountain trail, the icy blast of a dive into the river, and an easy rest on cool grass. Nowadays, there is a little limp sometimes. Many years ago when I was young and invincible, I baled off a high bank at my new home, landing hard on my left shoulder. Mom told me then it will someday remind me of my youthful exuberance, but not in a good way. But it’s okay. It won’t stop me from being all the dog I need to be. And mom and dad walk slower now, too, sometimes with a little bit of a limp like me.

 

 

 

 

Yup, that is the bank I jumped off!

 

 

 

4. Bottomless Lungs – You may never see the deep reservoirs that drive me on, never stopping, when a lesser soul would give out. But I will keep going, til the final breath I draw, to finish my job with commitment.

 

 

 

5. A tail made of wind and sun – mine is long and luxurious. My friend Ruger’s was just a little stump, but he could wag so hard his whole body positively buzzed! For all of us cowdogs, it is balance, beauty and how we shout happiness and joy.

 

 

 

6. Supernatural ears – I know I have been accused of selective hearing.  But maybe it is because I am taking time to think, I am looking for the best response, and am thinking for myself like any good stock dog should do. Perhaps I listen intuitively to words you don’t say, to wishes you cannot name. I listen to the secrets of your heart. 

 

 

7. A coat of many colors – we may be called Blue or Red, but we wear the colors of a priceless gem – speckled or spotted in shades of blue, streaked in blended auburn tones, and trimmed out around the edges with every color of joy. I am a Red, White and Blue Heeler and proud of it!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

8. A Heart of Gold – All the well known Heeler traits come from here – I am steadfast, determined, joyful and unwavering. But most of all, this is where I am relentlessly and permanently welded to you, heart to heart and soul to soul.

 

I have wormed my way into your heart

 

 

Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his might.
  Ephesians 6:10