Day: November 7, 2017

Every Tuesday now, we go to the Bog with friends to play in the weekly Trivia Night, a new activity there. We did poorly tonight, we met our friends Scott and Lisa Carrino, but we got massacred in the music and football categories, we came in next to last. This was a slight improvement over our standing last week, when we went with Shelby and Kirby, our friends and house-sitters.

We need to broaden the age and cultural sensibilities of our team, the Bog was jammed tonight, the Trivia night is a big hit. I didn’t expect Kelly to be working, so I borrowed Maria’s snazzy new Iphone 8 Plus (My X Phone is arriving in December), which has a great camera.

Maria and I love this game and plan to keep coming. It’s sponsored by several beer companies, and we also bombed on the beer category. There was a literature topic but we blew it because we couldn’t name four houses in Hogwarts. We will be back.

I was warned that two of Kelly’s friends wanted to photo-bomb her, so I went behind the bar to get them into the picture. I loved it, the unflappable Kelly took it all in stride, as usual.  This is my first-ever photo-bombed photograph, and i think it worked out very well. I like the portrait setting in Maria’s new phone also, I can’t wait for mine to come, another month, I think.

We moved the sheep to the back pasture this morning, I had three dogs working on it. Fate circled around the front, moving forward with the sheep. Gus took the right flank and escorted the sheep through the gate, Red did the classic job of border collie, driving the sheep steadily from the rear, putting pressure on them to move forward through the gate.

Three very different styles, with very different results. But they did get the job done, and it was a  sight I did not ever expect to see in my nearly two decades of working with dogs and sheep. Live and learn. The impossible is the most exciting thing to achieve.

Often, in the morning, Maria and I walk out to the rear pasture. The donkeys follow, the dogs come along, Red rounds up the sheep. He is the anchor out there. Gus and Fate race around, play tag, run and run. The donkeys come to Maria for some talk and love.

This is my favorite place on Bedlam Farm, it is the highest point and seems to be in a world of its own, especially when we are all out there together. I decided to invite you along this morning, come and see.

A kind uncle told me once when I was having trouble with some bullies that you are no smaller or larger than you think you are

I think Gus proves the point for dogs, he thinks he is a tiger sometimes, he is quite at home everywhere on the farm, tormenting the big dogs, sitting on donkeys, standing up to the sheep. The donkeys are his throne, I think.

I wanted a Boston Terrier in part because I was a large dog snob. I thought small dogs were cute but inferior to big dogs. I didn’t think it through, really, it was just a prejudice I had. I thought they were emotional toys for people, not real dogs. Labs are real dogs, I thought, and border collies. And other big dogs.

I know some small dog people who sneer at big dogs, but there are lots of big dog people like me, who sneered at small dogs.

I think it is human nature to always want to feel superior to others, we almost always seem to do it. The truth is, Gus is nothing much like I thought he would be. The two words that come to mind when I think of him are affectionate and entitled. At least three or four times a day, he leaps into my arms (Maria’s too) and showers me with kisses.

He always is close to us, is quick and obedient, and  wouldn’t think of running off. He is no fool, he knows there is nothing better out there, especially now that he is neutered.

Gus simply entered our lives, as all good dogs do, and brightened them, as many good dogs do. He is intensely active and alert, and considers us, the house, the farm, his province, to roam as he pleases. He fears nothing, not even Flo and has methodically charmed the animals one by one.

He still sleep sin a crate, but only for half the night. He is an excellent bedmate, finding the contours of knee or butt a good place to sleep, and stays out of her way during his bedtime stays. About an hour after the sun comes up, he decides everyone should get up and we are showered with licks, grunting noises and cuddles.

He seems like a pretty big dog to me. Red and Fate think so, too, he is one of them, they are not the least bit snobbish, like people.

He has slipped easily and gracefully into our lives, and I am learning that dogs are dogs, they are what we make of them, teach them, and give them the freedom and encouragement to be, no more or less. Gus is a lot bigger dog than many of the large dogs I have owned and loved.

Getting Gus was a good idea for me, he has taught me much more than I have taught him. It is always good to grow.

He is as large as he thinks he is, and that is pretty big. There is just no point in being a dog snob, as I learned early on from the border collie snobs. It just closes too many doors.

A new wrinkle in the Gus/Sweaters discussion. The weather turned cold the last day or so, temperature in the low 20’s when we come out in the morning. Gus, several days from is neutering, does not seem cold in the least. No shivering, he races back and forth with the border collies, is eager to go outside and loves to stay there with Fate.

I’m a bit surprised, since I was fully expecting to have sweaters on him in this weather, or to see him shiver or want to come inside. No signs of that. I’m thinking he may need them in snow and single digit weather and if so, I have two ready for him.

The farmers I know with Boston Terriers insist their dogs do not need sweaters or want them, and farmers are not inclined to spend money on sweaters for dogs. I’m open minded about it, if he needs them, he will certainly have them on, but I’m starting to wonder if he really will.

In heavy snow, I’ll put them on him whether he wants them or not, I imagine it is hard for a small dog like that to get through the kinds of drifts we have. Gus is like a miniature border collie. He runs with them (not quite as far), plays with them, hangs out with sheep, is hyper vigilant and loves to work. They fit in very well together. But the story of the sweater is not, over, after all.