I am a lover of dogs of the highest order. How many authors do you know that have dedicated a cookbook to their dog? Yes, you now know at least one. Mrs. C, owner of the hobby farm, has taken her two pet dogs with her on vacation but there is one dog who has an important job to do on the farm and his name is Darwin. I’m guessing he’s about 2 years old now and he lives out in the pastures with the sheep, protecting them from predators day and night. I’m pretty sure he is a Great Pyrenees and he has learned his job well.
It’s been my experience that working dogs like Darwin are not always the friendliest of animals. There are two similar dogs at a farm nearby that protect a herd of goats and I wouldn’t want to meet them on the wrong side of the fence, if you know what I mean. But Darwin is different. He is extremely handsome (how does he keep himself so well groomed? The picture was taken in the rain…), he is very intelligent, and he is the most lovable creature you would ever want to meet. I seriously want to bring him home, make us both a cuppa and curl up on the sofa together.
This is possibly my first hint that I wouldn’t make a good farmer. I can’t, or won’t might be more accurate to say, distinguish one dog from another. I want them all to live wonderful, happy lives. But as I write this, how do I know that Darwin would even want to live the life of, let’s say, my dog Oscar? It does look to me like Darwin is a happy dog, especially as he rolled around amongst the Queen Anne’s lace and all of the lady sheep. I watched him lick one of the lady’s ears. Not nip, but affectionately lick. I saw him staring intently at something in the grass and then try to pounce on it playfully. Maybe a life indoors would depress him? He’ll probably never be a house dog but I can’t help but daydream.