Every morning, when we got out to do the barn and animal chores, I let Rose into the pasture and she goes up into the Pole Barn, where the sheep rest while they are here, and she waits. She doesn’t move, but sits regally watching me and looking out at the pasture and the valley.When we are done, she comes down and comes into the house, where she sits by me all day or out in the yard, watching over things. Everywhere I got on the book tour, people ask me how Rose is, and people are worried. I guess I must be giving off that impression, that vibe. I need to do better. When I speak to Jeannie Lindheim, the animal communicator, about Rose, I will not ask her how she is. That is my job to know.
In my mind, Rose is fine. Rose is well. Rose is where she is in life, as am I. She is heading for nine years of age, and has been butted, kicked, run over, battled rams, pigs and coyotes and cows, been cut and infected too many times to count. She is not getting any more tests, not getting more pills. She is calm, at ease, comfortable, eating and alert, but can’t really work fully any more, can’t move quickly enough to get around the sheep, isn’t quite fast enough to keep away from the donkey’s hooves.
I know Rose well,and I don’t need a vet to poke her and pull her to tell me how she is. She is tired and stiff, and she is well, beautiful, great to me. She will spent the rest of her days near me, sitting in the barn, in her garden watching the pasture. I hope this is many years, but as many years as it is, she will be well to me. She will not be a drama for me or for anyone else. Like all working dogs who get kicked around, there comes a point where their legs and joints just give out. I won’t fight that, or deny that, or plunge her into a life of medications and tests and procedures. I will make sure she is comfortable and will I know if she is comfortable. If she isn’t, I will make sure she is.
We are bonded in an almost mystical way, and I do not need or want anyone to tell me what is good for her. Sometimes it seems that others are always telling me how my dogs are, or how I should care for them, a disease in the animal world. Rose does not need anyone to worry about her. People know their own animals better than anyone, and I respect that. Rose of all creatures will live in the natural rythyms of life – within reason. Rose is possessed of much dignity, and she will live out her life in a dignified way, accepting life, growth, aging and death. She has saved and defined my life more than once, and I will do the same for her.
And every morning she will get to sit in her pasture taking in the world, in her own way.