Life with Red is different than life with any other dog I have had. Dr. Karen Thompson told me that God wanted me to have Red and she is a person of faith and I did not believe her at first, but now I know something of what she meant. Life with Red begins at 6 a.m. He is a restless soul, and he needs quiet and focus, so he spends the night in his crate. I open the gate and he rushes out, tail wagging. He does out into the dog run with Frieda and Lenore. I get dressed and come downstairs. It is time to move the sheep from one pasture to another, so they can eat their hay away from the greedy donkeys. I tell Red “come by) and he zooms off, and in a few seconds, the sheep appear at the gate and move to the other pasture.
In the pasture, Red is transformed. He becomes a wolf, rigid and focused. He becomes something different.
At first, the sheep panicked at the sight of this dog, butted and charged him, panicked and threw themselves into walls and the sides of barns, but now it is a beautiful ballet, a connection of ancient instinct, great stamina and the intelligence of the working dog. After the morning chores, Red becomes a different kind of dog, and he and I walk together in the woods, sometimes alone, sometimes with Maria and Lenore and Frieda. He walks off leash, instantly responsive. He walks ahead, but never runs away. Then home, and under my desk. I work, he curls up at my feet. After lunch, chores, we go to the bank. The teller in the drive-by says hi to Red and shoots him a biscuit in the pneumatic tube. We visit Connie Brooks at Battenkill Books, and he goes behind the counter to say hello. We go to the hardware store and he goes inside to see a different Connie.
The UPS man has biscuits for Red. He is from County Tyrone, like Red, in Ireland.
He comes with me to the chiropractor, lies on the floor under the table, quietly. We go to the vegetable stand and he goes inside to say hello to Sylvia. In and out, in and out. Then more work at the computer, while I blog, write some more. Then afternoon chores. At night, he vanishes, usually under my desk, until bedtime. When I turn the lights off, he goes up ahead of and is waiting for me in the crate.
Sometimes we meditate and when the three bells sound, Red gets up and goes to the door. He doesn’t get up for the two bells in the middle, only the three at the end. Dr. Thompson was right.