A Cowdogs Advice

Grip up, America!

Heelers

Abundance and Lack

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A very long time ago, a wise man said

“I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.”

 

 

Well, even as a young dog, I, too, have experienced plenty and need. I don’t remember much about the early times, but I do know a few things, so someone cared once I think. I was fed and trained, doctored, maybe loved. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Then something went wrong. Who knows how I ended up wandering the desert?

 

 

 

 

 

 

That was a spare time, with hunger, sadness and sore paws. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I was blessed to eventually find my way, through a person who didn’t want me around their place and accused me of attacking their dog [well, that Chihuahua was truly obnoxious!], to a kind lady who said I could be one of her foster dogs.

I didn’t know what that was, but she was nice and seemed to like me. 

 

 

I was fed there, usually plain kibble, but enough of it, and had fresh water. There were a few dogs I got to play with there, toys, and I got walks and attention.

 

 

 

 

 

 

After some months there, then abundance showered down on me!

Or maybe, I flew straight into it, since I took a flight up north. The saints at PilotsNPaws made my miracle happen; you can read about it here:

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

 

 

 

Now this is the season of harvest around here – a pretty good one, this year. There are plenty of places with drought, fires, floods –

 

We’ve had the smoke here –

but we have been blessed with plenty of rain at the right time, robust growth, good harvests.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A couple years ago I hear, it was dry and there was no hay within five hundred miles. Everyone worried about a tough winter, lean times. Of course, like always, things changed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I have all I need here, and more. I have good food, often with savory bits of beef or chicken.

 

 

 

I look forward to getting special treats and homemade biscuits, and have my own toybox with an assortment of entertainment, all for me.

 

 

 

 

 

I get fresh big bones all the time, too. 

 

 

 

 

 

There are wide meadows to explore, and a little work to do herding critters once in awhile.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And I have a pond and creek to play in, and little boys to play with there, too!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This is surely a time of abundance for this grateful dog!

I find it doesn’t take much to have enough.

But whether I have a little or a lot, I’m OK, because I know who is looking out for me. You, too!

 

 

 

 

 

I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.

 I can do all this through him who gives me strength.   

                                                                                                         Phillipians 4:12-13

 

Dog Days of Summer

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Did you know the Dog Days of summer are here! It is from July 3rd to August 11th, the time of sweltering, sultry weather. I’m not sure how someone decided that – I thought dog days were every day, every season.

 

 

It was unnaturally hot here lately – we usually don’t get mid-nineties day after day, up here in the foothills of the Rocky Mountain ranges. Even up here, we’ve been flirting with triple digits a few days!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But it is nowhere near as hot as I remember from the desert! 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Maybe it is named for us panting and looking for shade, for when our tongue hits the ground!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Farmers in North America associated the dog days of summer with their crops and even had a rhyme to predict how the rest of the year would go:

“Dog days bright and clear
Indicate a good year;
But when accompanied by rain,
We hope for better times in vain.

 

 

There are a lot of tales about the title. Some say it is when the dogs go off the porch and lay underneath. Some thought it was a time when dogs go mad, and attack more. ‘Course, maybe that bad temper came with being hot, tired, itchy – dogs get more hotspots and rashes this time of year.

 

DOG DAYS IN THE STARS

 

In fact, right now the sun is in the same area of the sky as Sirius, a very bright star and part of the constellation Canis Major, the Greater Dog. Sirius is called the Dog Star.

In the summer, Sirius rises and sets with the Sun. Because the star is so bright, the ancient Romans believed it actually gave off heat and added to the Sun’s warmth, accounting for the long stretch of sultry weather. So they called this time diēs caniculārēs, or “dog days.”  But the heat is just the result of the Earth’s tilt.

Thus, the term Dog Days of Summer came to mean the 20 days before and 20 days after this alignment of Sirius with the Sun—July 3 to August 11 each year.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There you have it. A lesson in weather, astronomy and canine lore, all in one from a Heeler!

And yet, after a hot spell, this week the temperature dropped like a hot rock, with a few days of heavy rain and chilly-for-July highs.

 

Even though us cowdogs work in blizzards or sweltering sun, I like time on the porch, and less time  all  day trailing cows. As I lay in the cool shade of early morning, I came up with a list we dogs all can use to get through the Dog Days.

 

 

A Cowdog List for Dog Days Relief

  1. Shade – deep, cool shade, best under trees and heavy brush, but my breezy wide porch is great, too. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2. Dirt – We will dig our own hole and lay in the cool damp dirt – we dogs know how to pick the best spots. Sorry if it is your favorite garden spot, too!

 

 

 

 

 

3. Water – there is nothing like a spring-fed creek for wading, lapping, laying, swimming.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Any body of water will do though – a water trough, a pond, a lake. I don’t like the waves lapping on my legs, not crazy about the boat, but dad sure was happy when we were in it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

4. Ice – this makes a great chew toy. It keeps my paws and mouth cool, too. Sometimes I get special Pupsicles made with tasty juices!

A long time ago – but I’ll remember that chunk of ice forever!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

5. Indoors – OK, when it’s really hot, this option works. I have a perfect spot between open windows, and under the ceiling fan. I think they put that up especially for me.

 

 

Being the joyful Heeler that I am, I know the most important thing is to just enjoy the summer.

Being from the hot desert, I don’t know much about winter, although I arrived in the spring and we had a few big snowstorms after that. It was baptism by snow for me!

 

 

And, even during these long and perfect days, I know winter will come again.

 

 

Sadly, the days are already losing daylight; around here, we’ll lose 50 minutes in July!

 

So right now, lets love Dog Days!

 

 

The Lord watches over you— the Lord is your shade at your right hand; the sun will not harm you by day, nor the moon by night.

Psalm 121:5-6

The Sky Between the Trees

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The foothills rise steeply here, hemming my Heeler heaven ranch with giant firs rising atop the ridgeline.

 

From two sides, the winds whisper through big evergreens, down to grassy meadows and dewy creek bottoms.

Last night, a big storm blew through, bringing waves of rain that looked like a movie storm, lightning flashes so bright they shut off the solar porch lights, but mercifully without the predicted hail.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The rain rushed down the slopes, soaking deep grass, finding a way over creek banks.

 

And this morning, up the steep hills, the sun rises again behind the trees, delayed by the high slopes but still determined to show up.

 

They say that hiking up and down hills is good for body and soul.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I get plenty of that around here, and I’m sure it has contributed to losing those pesky five pounds I was reminded of by Dr Greg last visit.

 

Even for this old cowdog, climbing the slopes helps cardiovascular health, strengthens muscles [notice my toned legs?], and burns calories. It puts less strain on my knees, doesn’t hurt that old injury, all while strengthening joints.

 

 

 

I don’t always catch a ride!

 

It takes focus and determination – increasing mental power in an already tough and scrappy Heeler!

 

 

Now on these hills, you could just roll back down, snow or no snow.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Walking downhill has benefits too. Bone density, core activation, muscles and balance too.

 

But always, in order to hike up, you must look up.

 

 

I look up and may see bears on the highest horizons.

 

 

I look up to see ravens angling between heavy green branches, or new fawns darting madly down the banks.

 

                   

 

 

                   Or lots of other critters and things.

 

 

I look up, and I’m a little bit stronger than before.

 

 

Above it all, I see the sky between the trees.

 

 

For years now, I’ve looked up at my eastern border, watching for the sun.

 

Between the trees, there are hints of what the day will bring – clear, foggy, boiling storm clouds.

At night, I watch a bright moon flit behind the black silhouettes, finally pouring its light into the open valley.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And the stars! They light the sky between the trees like a million fireflies.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So I always look up. Season after season.

 

The sky between the trees is a promise, you know. It is a reminder to keep going, keep climbing, keep looking up to the one who rolled out that sky and placed those trees. I pin my small earthly grit on Him and, while I keep climbing, I keep looking up.

 

 

“Lift up your eyes and look to the heavens: Who created all these?” Isaiah 40:26

Year of the Bear

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While everything and everyone is past waking up from winter, and summer is solidly in place [even though there was frost in the creek bottoms a few days ago!], there is still plenty of wildlife coming around.

There was a young moose nibbling our trees last week, and he was completely oblivious to the intense barking Heeler [me!] trying to warn him off.

Often there are bears roaming the hills and, since I located a freshly dead deer near the creek, roaming close to my yard too, I think.

 

In honor of my personally declared “Bear Week”, I’m bringing back one of my favorite tales. A few years ago, we had plenty of bruins all around:

 

 

It seems a tough winter is finally over, and Spring brings plenty of fresh discoveries.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A cruel winter brought a blessing to the bears, as they came out of hibernation to a winterkill feast. This year, especially, must be good to the bruins, as there are a lot of them around.

 

We see them, just before dawn, coming down from the hills, their nose following the aroma of dead flesh.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I helped set up a trail camera, to watch them as they crossed the edge of the north cow pasture; then, after dining, they go down to the creek to wash their paws and get a cool drink, and on up the other side of the valley.

 

 

 

 

 

 

And these black bears come in all colors and sizes!

There were small bears – some chocolate brown, cinnamon and – mom’s favorite – a beautiful little amber cub with dark ears and face.

 

 

 

There are medium bears – mostly black, some mama bears with cubs, but of course we don’t ask them about their family affiliations. There was one mama bear, trying to enjoy breakfast, while two small cubs raced around playing hide and seek!

 

 

 

 

 

And then there is an enormous black bear, who strolls around like he owns the mountain – I think he does!

 

 

 

 

 

 

I saw him just across the creek bottom, ambling up the hill, finding sweet greens along the way to compliment his earlier beef breakfast. Of course I ran out and gave him my best “Heeler in charge” bark, adding a little coyote yip-yapping for good measure.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The bear was totally unimpressed.

 

 

 

I know this little cowdog would be swatted into next week with one swipe of his giant paw, so I stayed on my side of the creek, barking like I was a tough wild dingo.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The bear was still totally unimpressed.

He didn’t even hustle into the woods like he was scared, just stood there, nibbling his herbs, looking serenely at the wild dingo. I think I even detected a smirk on his lips – can you believe the disrespect?

 

 

 

Mom called me back, but I was secretly glad I didn’t have to go over there and show that beast who is boss in these parts.

But when we drive around exploring their country, I like to stay on the four-wheeler.

 

 

I learned that the bears don’t always like to share, and that they sometimes bicker with each other over space and dinner!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And they don’t particularly enjoy the flash on the night camera either.  At night, they look like fire-eyed ghost monsters!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The night shots are black and white and sometimes blurry, because these guys aren’t interested in posing for the camera. 

 

I guess the big furry apex predators have cleaned up most of the free meat, because there are fewer of them now. For a couple of weeks, we saw bears every morning, as well as catching them on the camera. Now it is mostly the younger ones that still come through looking for a snack.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There are other creatures on the camera. Mostly crows, magpies and vultures.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mom will move the camera around, and we may see moose, elk, deer – even a coyote or a bobcat – passing through, maybe stopping at the creek for a cool drink. Sometimes a horse or cow shows up too.

 

 

I like the wildlife parade here, and I tell you, I smell a lot more than the camera picks up!  And I do believe there are far too many bear pictures this week, and not enough Heelers!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I like to pretend this is my territory, but I share it with many others. And they’re all coming out now, just like the flowers, deep pasture grass and green -growing everything.

 

 

Early dawn, late sunset, and almost to the longest day already.

 

Welcome Summer! And bears too.

 

 

“Your righteousness is like the highest mountains, your justice like the great deep. You, Lord, preserve both people and animals.” – Psalm 36:6

May the Rains Fall Gently

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I do not understand why people spend so much time worrying and wringing their paws.

 

Around here, it started early – not enough snow, too dry, forest fires starting already, and I hear Nebraska is burning up.

 

 

It seems there is always something to fret about. Especially if you haven’t learned to lean on the Lord.

 

 

But, like always, give it a little time. It has been raining here for a week now – sometimes soft and gentle, sometimes driving hard and complete with a sound and light show, sometimes more misty fog. I hear some places have had several inches. From drought to flood in days – how about that?

 

 

 

 

 

 

And that is the normal way. It has rained other places, put out fires, caused flooding in some.

 

 

In the past few days, we have planted in the rain, weed-whacked in the rain [ and I’m sure there is a warning on that machine about not running it in the rain!], done chores, wandered and walked. Some things must be left undone – painting for one.

 

 

Now I admit for some of these damp activities, I laid on the porch and watched the boss, bemused.

 

 

It is a good time to be a freshly planted tree. This is only the start of our traditional rainy month. Things dry out fast though, so I welcome it all , to grow the food and grass, to be able to bale something for those hay-burners to eat when winter comes back.

 

 

So let’s pray we get more, but a little sunny warmth would be good too. Or maybe summer was those two hot days we  had ten days back!

 

 

 

 

 

“Land that drinks in the rain often falling on it and that produces a crop useful to those for whom it is farmed receives the blessing of God.” – Hebrews 6:7

Chapters, Calendars and Cowdogs

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I wake up these days before five AM, to daylight and the lilting greeting of dozens of songbirds. It is a little early for me, but at least it isn’t dark and cold!

I have curled up on my couch and asleep by 9:30Pm, and it is still light outdoors.

This is the gentlest, kindness, most forgiving of seasons.

 

 

 

 

 

 

But these chapters turn swiftly, and these golden moments will be gone soon. We are less than a month away from the longest daylight day, when the sun imperceptibly starts it trip farther south, robbing daylight a few minutes at a time, even though we will not notice for weeks while summer generously shares its warmth and sunlight.

Every day I swim and watch the boss work from the shade. Only a couple weeks ago, we had snow showers, and just a couple days ago, there was frost in the low ground every morning! We check anxiously for buds and new leaves, but nothing. Then suddenly we have blossoms!

 

I am a high speed, high octane, fast-moving Heeler – but I cannot grab hold of the rapid cycles our days fly through!

When we finally get nice weather in this northern land, there are hundreds of jobs to start and to finish before snow flies again.

 

So much has to be compressed into the long days.

Perhaps in the south, the same urgency applies to the winter, before the inferno returns. I do remember my days lost in the Sonoran Desert. My paws burned, but at least I didn’t have to trail cows!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here, the boss makes lists and tackles it all as well as her old bones can manage. I watch her work, more slowly every year. Maybe I should nip her heels to rev her up a bit?

   

 

 

Yet even I, still young I think, feel that ache in my joints, caused by time whistling through too fast!

 

 

 

 

 

There are piles of stuff I tell you! Piles of junk to get thrown and hauled. Piles of plants to be pulled, cut, burned. I am mercifully free of those hamster wheels running through midnight brains, adding to an endless to-do list.

   

 

Still, how does a cowdog accomplish it all in the space of summer, yet still enjoy all the pleasures this wide season offers: swimming, fishing, camping?

     

Whatever your season brings, with days whizzing by, make sure they count. When I wake up each morning, I realize it isn’t just one more day – it is in fact one less day in this world. Savor the chapters slowly. Here comes summer – don’t miss it! 

 

The flowers appear on the earth, the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land.

                                                                                   Song of Solomon 2:12 

God shed His grace on us…again

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I consider myself a red,white and blue ACD [American Cattle Dog].

 

 

And this patriot dog is ready to beg for God to shed His grace on us – again.

This is a three-day weekend,  the start of summer. It is time to go camping,

 

grilling, fishing, and everything summer!

                                     

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But more importantly,  Memorial Day, is really none of those things, and  it’s true meaning is much more.

 

 

The Civil War, which ended in the spring of 1865 and claimed more lives than any conflict in U.S. history, was the reason the country’s first national cemeteries were needed.

By the late 1860s,  many American towns held springtime tributes to these countless fallen soldiers, decorating their graves with flowers and reciting prayers.

Each year on Memorial Day a national moment of remembrance takes place at 3:00 p.m. local time – does anybody know and practice that?

With time and more war, the day came to honor all fallen soldiers, and changed from Decoration Day to Memorial Day, and went from being observed on May 30, to the last Monday of May.

 

 

This weekend, I will watch as mom opens a trunk of artifacts, most over a 100 years old. There is a civil war discharge notice, from a distant relative. Most of the trunk is filled with items, not so distant, from a great-uncle who died in a French forest weeks before WWI ended.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There is the flag.

 

 

And now we have another folded flag, too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Take time today to remember those who have defended this country’s freedom, which seems to be more at risk than ever. Take flowers to a cemetery; we’ll be taking a red, white, and blue bouquet down the road, to where Dad lies, his first Memorial Day there.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Attend a parade, a veteran’s event, put up a flag. And teach your children the true purpose of the day. Teach them the National Anthem, America the Beautiful, and the Pledge of Allegiance, too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

On this Memorial weekend, watching how so much that brave soldiers have fought to defend, disintegrating before our eyes – knowing the sacrifices made, the fierce love for this country and freedom –

 

 

 

All I can say is thanks. By the grace of God, this old Heeler will not lose it without a fight.

 

 

 

 

“I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.” – 2 Timothy 4:7

Anticipation and…. Patience

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This is the time of year when, at least up here in the northern Rockies, we are teased by a few warm days and tempted to get the seeds in the ground and joyfully wait for rampant green growth everywhere. A few things are in, but it will be awhile before cold nights give way to the kindness of warm ground.

 

 

Of course, this all started months ago, when mom gets through the dead of winter with seed catalogs and the warming promise they offer.

 

She plans gardens, finds intriguing heirloom varieties, starts ‘way too many tomato and pepper seeds.

 

 

 

 

And we order many trees. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We have planted trees as long as I can remember, and I’d say the boss has been planting here with other helpers long before me.  Now the little boys help out too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     It is always good to have help digging the holes

 

 

There are apples, pears, plums, all kinds of berries, and evergreens, mock orange, roses.

This year we have added more apples, replacing the favored Frostbite that was girdled and murdered by voles. Every year now, as she gets older, the boss tells me we will add no more trees.

Every year, we add a few.

She added a row of tough, hardy pears. There are 6 more butternuts, a few oaks, enough conifers to start our own Christmas tree plantation, I think.

 

 

 

 

 

There is a plan and a place for them all, but I don’t know why she likes putting in so many. Planting trees is a lot of work.

Sometimes, it is necessary to sit in the shade of an old oak and read a book.

Here is a good one: The Man Who Planted Trees :https://amzn.to/3sDc2Uc

 

And another classic, A Sand County Almanac: https://amzn.to/3wtbaT5

 

 

 

Tree planting is nearly done for the year. We plant them early, usually in snow, but of course, we did just wake up to snow this week. The planted love the wet, cold weather. The planters, not so much.

 

And more often, we have blessed rain.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We fight off voles and deer, another part of my job. I monitor watering and I fertilize sometimes, too. Many grow, some rapidly shoot up and others painfully hang on, slowly fighting for their spot on the ranch. Some succumb to too much wind, drought, deer, voles or other brutal difficulties of life.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

With every plant, we bury sorrow and worry in the hole, waiting with faith and hope for the reward. We plant for others, mom tells me; we reach optimistically into the future when we carefully put them in the ground.

 

 

 

It is both sad and satisfying when each new tree is safely settled into fresh dirt. I know we will never sit in the shade of this years saplings, maybe never pick the fruit. It is optimistic, generous, brave to plant a gift far into the future.

 

Maybe someday, Sprout and his brother – and their grandchildren – will pick butternuts, apples, pears on these hills.

 

 

Perhaps those we will never know will find sustenance from this Holy ground.

 

 

 

 

 

 

For now, I follow mom , with her shovel and bucket of trees, in a slow and quiet pursuit. Ours is purposeful focused, patient work.

Is this where the next tree goes?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The feel of the cool earth under my paws. Resting in the shade of a bigger, older tree.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I hear coming up soon, is National Cheese Week, of all things.  Maybe it is cheese month or highlighting one variety of cheese. There is a chance to celebrate everything, although I’m not sure I’ve heard of a National Tree Planters Day – I would be the poster dog for that, I tell you!

 

 

But regarding cheese, I’m a bit of a connoisseur. When I first arrived here, I admit I liked McCheeseburgers, but I have certainly refined my tastes since. My predecessor, the great Ladysmith, only ate Tillamook Vintage White Cheddar, and of course the many cheeses mom makes.

I have more common tastes and recognize the rattle of cheese wrap from a sound sleep; I will come running and expect a generous taste of everything from cheese sticks to my favorite Colby-Jack.

 

 

When I sample her delicacies, I have to watch the Heeler expressions; the wrong side eye and I won’t get any more.

 

 

 

There may be some outstanding cheese in the future and I don’t want to lose my special status as official taste tester.

 

 

Making cheese is kind of like planting trees. There are many careful steps, patience and waiting. Like the garden we will plant when the frost is finally gone, produce will come in its own time.

But like the trees, some take much longer. Look forward with patience, because most things worth having aren’t instant. It takes time for good things to grow.

 

“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” – Galatians 6:9

The Good Fight

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Old Ladysmith taught me that by her time in life, she had fought the good fight.

 

 

By this time of year, too, we all seem to have been in a fight, at least up north here. Winter has a way of beating you around a bit. April just started, and this year, it has been a fight, maybe a good fight.

 

 

We endured a few cold snaps, where temps dropped beyond tolerable. This is when the world takes on a mean attitude, and even the sun, if it shows, is stingy and mocking.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The trees and creek make sharp painful sounds, as if splintering in the freeze.

 

 

Not much snow this year – even with Chinooks and some melting,  a few storms –  very few sledding hills for little boys.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We’ve come through the bleakest months and fought the good fight – chopping ice for the cows to drink, shoveling and plowing, brushing off the truck once again and praying it will start.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A couple weeks ago, we supposedly entered Spring. Finally we’ve had a few warm sunny days this week, but we have snow predicted for the weekend. I’ve learned we probably have a couple winters still to come this spring!

Old people, and old dogs, appreciate the promise of Spring more than most. Like the song says, “We made it through another on the northern range”.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Some years,  a lot of people got a dose of winter pretty far south.

I think that is mostly fun for them to play in the snow!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It seems endless, but of course wintering is a swift, small fight.

 

As this old cowdog looks at the world, I see so many more important battles on the horizon.

Will we fight for right? Who will stand up for truth?

Will the people of this uncommon nation of freedom defend the young, ensure real history is known, raise the bar, expect the best?

 

 

 

Us cowdogs know a good fight.

 

 

 

But I watch you humans today, so much anger and outright depravity. Reason is skewed, distorted, lost.

 

 

I think Washington DC needs a few good Heelers, where a couple of nips and brisk herding would bring some needed change. People need to straighten up, learn some civility, show mercy and kindness.

 

And how about a little spunk, a little resolve, a little endurance?

 

 

 

I am a Heeler. I don’t panic and don’t wring my paws. Trials, tribulations, storms of all kinds – it just takes grit to get through. It helps to have confidence in a God greater than any fight.

 

 

 

I’ve heard “in this world, you will have tribulations.” But the God who created this old dog, and you, followed that with this joyful promise: “But be of good cheer, for I have overcome the world”!  [John 16:33].

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I think He knows about the good fight, and He has it settled. The winter ended, the fight ended, a couple thousand years ago and last weekend.

 

It is our job to fight the good fight, and fight for good. We can do it with Him alongside.

 

 

 

 

 

When it counts, then I fight like I’m the third dog on the ramp of Noah’s Ark, and it is starting to rain!

 

 

 

 

 

Make it count friends.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Good Friday and Hallelujah Sunday!

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                                                                                                                                                                                          This post may contain affiliate links

In honor of this blessed holiday, I  borrow the great Ladysmith’s  reflections on Easter.

She said it pretty well, I think. In the busy-ness of this week, this season, let’s not lose sight of the most important event in the history of the world.

 

A long time ago, there was a sad, hopeless Friday, that turned out to be a good Friday after all. And then there was a better Sunday.

 

This cowdog has been reflecting on Good Friday and Easter. Good Friday – it is a simple, pleasing  name to me. It sounds so pleasant from this side of the cross, but the day was anything but positive way back when it came into lasting importance. We still know it today because of the enormous price.

Good Friday is the day when Jesus was known to have been crucified and died. That afternoon was the saddest time ever in history, before and since. The one who came as Messiah to save the world, hung on a cross, said “It is finished”, and died there between two thieves. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But it wasn’t over. He was buried in a tomb, wrapped in a hundred pounds of linen and spices, and enclosed by a massive boulder that weighed maybe 2 tons. But Sunday morning came, and his friends found the grave open and Jesus gone!

And then they saw the risen Christ, and everything that had been foretold for centuries was proven true. The resurrection on Easter morning was the celebration of all time, giving people a way back to God and heaven.

I don’t see how it could get better than that!

 

 

 

 

This cowdog thinks about the true reason for Easter on this Good Friday afternoon, when the sun clouds over, and certainly on that bright Sunday morning at “sonrise.” Seems like we’ve slipped a long way from that, into too much candy and bunnies.

 

 

But this is also a celebration of Spring and the renewal of life. This year, the ranch is buried in another week’s worth of fresh snowfall. There was bare ground and new smells, teasing us all with the promise of gardening, green grass and warm sunshine.Until the heartless winter returned.

 

 

 

 

 

I would like to be getting tired of mud by now.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We won’t be doing a doggy egg hunt, I guarantee that, but a lot of people do celebrate with the family canines.

 

There is nothing wrong with another day to celebrate with dogs, I say. I like the idea of an Easter basket. And bunny cookies for me!

 

 

 

 

But remember, no chocolate bunnies for your favorite canine!

 

 

 

 

 

 

I helped the boys dye eggs; they turned out so beautiful, and they were mostly brown eggs from our own hens.

 

 

 

 

Then we had fun throwing the used egg dye out on the snow after. It was so pretty!

 

 

 

 

Mom does not dress me up in ridiculous outfits. This cowdog would only chew them up – I think my beautiful speckled red, white and blue coat looks just fine.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But if anyone can pull off the look, count on a cowdog to rock it.

 

It is too late to order an Easter outfit, thank goodness, but this is the season for raincoats.

https://amzn.to/37ed01S

 

 

and life jackets, too:   https://amzn.to/3xuT3yv

 

 

 

 

I don’t like dressing, but I must stay it is nice to keep my coat dry. I don’t like mud in my paws at all, but I draw the line at wearing boots!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Of course, Easter is about the risen Lord, not a basket, or eggs, or a spring outfit.

It is a time to reflect and to celebrate.

 

Here is our joint Heeler list, previously A Ladysmith List, of our favorite ways to celebrate Easter:

  1. Go to church [I went to church accidently once, but that is a story for another day].
  2. Walk in the awakening country and enjoy Spring. Maybe this year, we’ll go sledding instead!
  3. Get together for a BBQ or Easter dinner – I vote for Ham.
  4. Have an egg hunt – limit the dogs – with our noses, we will find them all first.
  5. Have a picnic – again, maybe a snow party instead!
  6. Play fetch or Frisbie – or make snow angels!
  7. Go see an Easter Parade.
  8. Reflect on Good Friday and Easter.
  9. Remember the real reason to celebrate this day.

 

 

 

Remember what the angel reported on that day: “He is not here, for He is risen!”

 

Now that’s a Hallelujah for sure!

 


 

We wish everyone a Happy and Blessed Easter!

 

 

He is not here, for He has risen, just as He said. Come, see the place where He was lying.  Matthew 28:6

 

Happy Gotcha St Paddy’s Day!

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This week I’ll celebrate my very own Gotcha Day, a day shared with a saint of old named Patrick.

But I have other saints to celebrate that day.

 

 

It has been 3 years since this Heeler landed. It was on St Patrick’s Day, when I was surrounded by my own bunch of Saints.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

They undertook a plan that would fly me from the Arizona desert to my foothills ranch in the northern Rockies.

 

 

 

 

 

 

No one knows what happened before, but I was found ‘way out in the desert, and came to the only place in sight to rest. Unfortunately, I got on the wrong side of a ornery little Chihuahua there and that family wanted me gone. By God’s grace, they knew a kind lady who fostered dogs; she came expecting to trap me, as apparently my reputation, not wholly accurate, preceded me!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But she called, I came running, and jumped right into her car. I do love a good ride!

 

 

Finally I was adopted , but it would take a miracle to get me home. And that is where my own saints came in.

These Saints volunteer with Pilots N Paws.

 

For me, it took weeks, because the weather in the Rockies this early spring was not friendly to flight.

 

 

 

But finally, it was a GO!

 

 

 

 

 

That took coordinating all 3 planes and pilots, good weather all the way, and a lot of prayer. I was glad my foster mom got to ride along on the first leg, since I was pretty scared and didn’t know what was happening.

It was after all, my first airplane ride! My first pilot even said I was perfectly behaved the entire trip: who could be be a better co-pilot than a cowdog?

 

 

 

 

 

                                                                                                                                                                         Here I am sight-seeing over the Grand Canyon
                                                                                                                        

 

We left very early, and the flight was 820 nautical miles. We landed in my new town about 5 PM.

 

 

 

They even brought me a kid to play with right off!

 

Then I celebrated with a good roll in the snow; it was everywhere up here, and I found my first snowbank just off the runway. 

 

 

 

 

 

Then I went from my Freedom Flight to my Freedom Ride, and on the way we stopped for a puppy cone. I pretty well shut down McDonald’s, as all the staff admired me and heard the story of the flying cowdog!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Right away when I arrived, I found I had a well-stocked toy box all my own and several comfy beds.

 

 

 

Before long, I took over any couch I liked too. And was I tired!

 

 

 

 

 

 

I found there were two cats who also called this home, so I had to learn to respect them a little. They STILL run laps at 3 am, and need a cowdog to herd them. But I’m STILL not allowed to stick my very competent Heeler nose in their business!

 

 

I was once accused of being a cat killer, but we get along; I even kind of like my Mopsy and Tug.

 

 

 

 

 

I remember the snow when I got here –  I love the winter, rolling in the snow, making snowdog angels, helping feed, and keeping an eye on the many wild critters who visit.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I love spring, summer and fall, and everything on my ranch that goes with each season and every day.

 

 

 

I’m not a fancy dresser. I figure I have a stunning red, white and blue coat and that’s enough. But I have allowed a couple little boys dress me up,  at least to celebrate freedom and Gotcha Day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I was only here a year and a half, when my dad went home to heaven, and left me here to ramrod this place for him.

 

 

He always told me he was glad I chose mom as my person, and I think it was because he knew that before long, she would need me a lot.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I ride along most of the time, and I know that this Sunday, after church, Mom and the little boy will take me out for a puppy cone, to celebrate my second Gotcha Day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I think I’ll get a cake and a steak for dinner too!

 

 

 

 

 

 

So this St. Patty’s Day, join me in celebrating my Gotcha Day, and send out a prayer and a cheer to all those that make a day like this happen for all cats and dogs – shelters, fosters, volunteers, pilots, drivers, flight coordinators, adopters, donors – you are all real saints!

 

 

 

I’ll never forget Crystal, Tim,  Stewart, Chris and Jerome, and many others behind the scenes, who made this miracle flight happen for me. And to think they, and hundreds more, do this every day for dogs and cats that just need to get to a good home!

 

 

 

If everyone can just keep rescuing the abandoned, the hurt, the lonely among us – donating, volunteering, driving, flying, loving – perhaps the shelters could be emptied, and all pets would be wanted and loved.

 

Right now, somewhere overhead, there is a dog in a plane finding out what that means.

 

You can go here to donate to my favorite transport and buy items, like the neat calendar showing some of the canine co-pilots and their friends:https://pnpstuff.com/

 

 

We also love Wings of Rescue  https://wingsofrescue.org/

and Greater Good,  https://greatergood.org/good-flights

but there are many out there saving pets and making the world a better place.

Sometimes it is one lone soul who donates blankets and food to a shelter.

 

Some fly whole plane-loads of pets, and some fly just one, like they did for this little cowdog.

 

 

 

They are real saints!

 

Take a path of goodness – be kind, bring hope and joy to others.

 

 

 

I will always be grateful a few did that for me. I hope all my friends and followers will make a donation in honor of my day, helping another dog find a forever home.

 

 

You can read my Freedom Flight story here:https://cowdogsadvice.com/2023/03/introducing-redhawk-rose-the-flying-heeler/

 

 

Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these, you did for me – Matthew 25:40

Why Ask a Groundhog?

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This week people gathered from all over to ask a rodent for weather advice.

 

 

 

 

 

Those down south were hoping for an end to their unexpected winter.

Some of us up north were hoping to hear that winter would come.

 

Groundhog Day is rooted in an ancient European Christian celebration known as Candlemas, which occurs halfway between winter and spring. It commemorates the presentation of Jesus at the Temple of Jerusalem as a light to the people of Israel.

 

 

Historically, the weather on Candlemas was observed to predict the start of spring. According to an old English song:

If Candlemas be fair and bright,

Winter has another flight.

If Candlemas brings clouds and rain,

Winter will not come again. 

 

This is why, according to tradition, if it’s a bright and sunny day and the groundhog sees its shadow, there will be six more weeks of winter. If it’s a cloudy day and the groundhog doesn’t see his shadow, there will be an early spring.

 

 

 

In ancient weather lore, people would also observe hibernating animals, like a bear or badger, to foretell the arrival of spring.

Immigrants who settled in Pennsylvania in the 1700s brought their Candlemas traditions and used animals to predict the weather. Since no badgers were found, they used groundhogs native to the area to do the prognosticating. Think of the colorful celebrations we could have using the groundhog’s other names: Whistle-pig, woodchuck, thick-wood badger, red monk!

 

But I ask, why is anyone asking for an opinion, especially on something as important as the weather, from a Whistle-pig?

 

Now there are plenty of those rodents around here in the spring, none so famous as that fat little critter back east.

 

Far as I know, none of them are coming out this time of year for any reason. When they do show up, they are routed out by this cowdog, always on alert for interlopers on my ranch.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

All this hullabaloo got me thinking – why ask a scruffy gnawer to predict weather, when you have a highly skilled Heeler around?

 

So forget the notions of Marmota Monax. I will give you a Heelers viewpoint.

 

 

 

The weather? This is mid-winter, so we will have 6 more weeks of winter no matter what – right up until the Spring Equinox! Now it may be a blizzard, or it may be mild, or likely some tempestuous blend. Still winter!

 

 

It seems to me, after years of enduring everything from desert to mountains, that God may send rain, snow, or drought, wind, hail or sunshine, anytime He pleases.

I’ve decided if He sends rain, then I might as well welcome rain.

 

 

 

So I present a Heeler’s forecast:

 

If it snows – I’ll hustle through my chores, make sure everyone has food, water and warmth; keep an eye on the boss and make at least one snow angel before I come in.

 

 

If the temp drops, I’ll work even faster, then come in and cozy up on the couch. I probably will still not wear that puffy pink coat! And I’ll never admit my paws were freezing!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If it warms up and hints of Spring, I’ll enjoy the sun, roll in the fading snow, expand my explorations and sniff all that is coming to life.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’ll keep track of the mud, for fun and to know when we start planting trees. And to track inside too.

 

 

I’ll watch the pond for melting, knowing I will soon swim there with the little boys.

 

 

I will start wading the creek.

 

 

Every day, in any season, I will wake up knowing the sun will rise over the eastern ridge, whether I can see it or not.

 

 

And every day means I have one less day to make my time here count for something.

 

 

Now that old ground vermin won’t share wisdom like that! And if you do see my shadow, it sure won’t be still for long.

 

 

Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.  Matthew 6:34