Red Dirt Farm and Studio

A no good for nothing beagle hunting dog lost from her pack.

She adopted us one hunting season.  That was at least 15 years ago, when she decided she had enough of all that running, shooting, and mistreatment by the humans.

 She was a few years old at that time.  We guess her age now to be around 18 years.

It was not love at first sight, or for many years on our part.

We didn’t need, or want to take on any more animals.  We had our hands full with at least 20 cats and about 10 dogs at that time.

She was trouble from day one.

She has caused more problems with the other pack of rescue dogs we had.

 All the others got along fine, no squabbles or arguments.

She fought the others for control over the food, and bedding, and human attention.

I couldn’t forgive her for chasing the cats, and then a horrible incident occurred and she killed one of  them.

She repeatedly sent our other dogs for vet care after vicious attacks.

She made us so angry and there were many times when my patience had run the course and I said that is it – she is out of here.

But then she remained.

Visitors to the house would always question us.

 She seems so sweet, how can you say she is a bad dog?

The years have mellowed her aggressive behavior, she has come to learn that the cats rule the roost around here.  Now she watches over them.

She is what we call a recreational barker.

 The minute I get in bed, she sits on the porch under my bedroom window and barks

non-stop all night.

She never chases or barks at the deer when they eat the garden.

She never barked at the bear that tore up the bird feeders, the coyote that wandered around the property, or the raccoon that figured out how to get in the house this summer.

She doesn’t chase or bark at anything, except chickens.

This spring when the renters moved away from the farm across from us, they left their chickens.

Don’t even get me started on how mad that made me.

I’ve been wanting chickens for a long time.  I decided I would make lemonade out of the situation and I would adopt those left chickens, and have several free chickens and a rooster.  It took weeks of plying them with goodies to cross the fields and the road and come over to our property.

Nothing doing, that dang Betsy!

Every time I’d get them on our property this would happen:

Eventually they were dispatched by coyote or bear.  I try not to think about it.

We used to swear up and down she would out live all our other “good” dogs.

She did.

Now her age has crept up on her.  She can’t see that well, and her hearing isn’t so good either.

She has been asking for permission to become an indoor dog.

We don’t want an indoor dog.

The temperatures are low here these next few days and are going to dip to beyond brutal.

We have been worrying about her being out in the cold.

This morning, before dawn I awoke and came down stairs.

 A quick check on the temperature – 15 degrees.

Her dog house has cedar shavings, pillows and blankets and I have covered the opening with plastic to knock down the wind.

It was suggested we purchase a heated blanket for her.

We didn’t.

I was worried about her.

I grabbed an old comforter and placed it on the floor in front of the TV.

I opened the front door went over to her dog house and told her to come on.

Up and out of the dog house and straight to the front door.

She knew she was being invited inside.

How’d she know that?

We purchased a new dog bed for her today.

 It has been placed upstairs next to the humans bed, where she will sleep at night.

Life is going to be different around here.

The old country dog has moved in.

Until next time,

Bye!

Kim

P.S.  4:00 am – old country dogs have weak bladders.