The Farm - Part Ten

In addition to the livestock on our farm, we also had a couple of dogs and cats.

Not Gunner but he'll never know...

We had a German Shepherd named Sasha and a Yellow Lab by the name of Gunner. If you're old enough to remember the magazine, Highlights that used to be in the dentist's offices, you may remember there were two brothers - Goofus and Gallant. Gallant was the good brother, and Goofus couldn't stay out of trouble. Gallant was Sasha. Goofus was Gunner.

Highlights Magazine

As long as we're stereotyping, Sasha was your typical disciplined German. Staid, silent, always at the ready. She didn't need anyone but took care of everyone in the house. She would corral the livestock and protect the homestead. She'd sit on the front lawn quietly accessing the perimeter for intruders, aliens and the occasional delivery guy. This is Sasha:

Sasha the Protector

She knew her job and took it seriously. If the kids would get out of hand and start fighting, she would growl and break it up. If the livestock was too rambunctious, she would chase them around until they settled down. When I decided to apply for a million-dollar umbrella policy for the farm, the insurance company had to come out to "check out" Sasha's temperament because Shepherds can be a bit aggressive. Sasha gave the Erie representative a sniff and walked away, so we got the policy. She was a great dog and would ride in the back of the pickup truck and guard it while we were in the feed store.

Our other dog was Gunner. We acquired Gunner from an Amish farm in Lancaster as a puppy. I found out after we had Gunner for some time that getting dogs from Amish breeding farms was a bad idea because they had a tendency to interbreed their dogs with brother or sister dogs and the results were sometimes "wonky". Gunner turned out to be one of "Wonkier" ones.

Gunner the Goofball

Gunner was a runner. He would escape from the farm on a regular basis, and we would get a call from the restaurant down the road who caught him sniffing around the back of the kitchen looking for handouts. The chef was a dog lover and would regular give Gunner slabs of roast beef at the back door until I picked him up. He was also more than happy to charge me by the pound on what Gunner ate.

Gunner always had a happy disposition and smiled a lot, but we learned it was because he was born without a brain or at least common sense. He would bark and then perk up his ears to see who barked. He would eat, promptly crap and then eat his own feces. A friend called him the perpetual machine. He would chase the kids as they rode their ATV in the field and on more than one occasion would get rolled trying to bite the tires. It didn't seem to bother him; he would just shake it off and chase it again.

Sasha enjoyed riding in the bed of the pickup truck. Gunner enjoyed JUMPING OUT of the bed of a moving pickup truck and then would play "catch me if you can", invariably tying up traffic. I know some of you are already tsk tsking me for allowing dogs to ride in the truck without a harness or leash, but it was never an issue before Gunner.

Life got so complicated with Gunner because he started trying to munch on the sheep or get underfoot with the horses. We decided he was a lost cause and put him up for adoption. A kindly Reverend from a church in South Carolina had recently moved to shepherd a church in our area saw our ad and called. He explained that he was missing his old yellow lab that had passed. He came by and took Gunner home on a Friday night. I got a call on Saturday night from the man telling me that "it wasn't working out" and he needed to bring Gunner back. When he arrived, he told me that from the time he left on Friday until now, Gunner had not stopped barking, and it was interfering with his ability to write his Sunday sermon. I understood completely. He opened the back seat of his car, and we watched Gunner jump out, fly past me without even a hello and start chasing the sheep. The gentleman got in his car and as he zoomed out of the driveway yelled "GOOD LUCK! GOD BLESS!" I needed that blessing.

We eventually found a home for Gunner.

Lucky

In addition to the dogs, we had Lucky the Cat as a pet. My youngest son and I are both mildly allergic to cats, so Lucky spend most of the time outdoors. This seemed to suit him fine. In addition to Lucky, we invariably had a least a half dozen other cats at various times at the farm and discovered that people would drop off their unwanted cat or a stray they found along the way. We were told, "Every farm needs cats to keep the mice away" and they thought they were doing us a favor.

I could take or leave cats honestly. As long as they weren't on the counter or too in my face, they were pretty cool. I've mentioned previously how some of the older farmers in the area could be a bit cruel. We knew one farmer that would cut the tails off the cats or cut off their whiskers to be mean. Cats need their tails to help with balance and their whiskers to tell them how small an opening they could get through. Pretty dreadful behavior in my opinion.

We had a ferret for a day. More accurately a couple of hours. I came home from work and picked up an odor that made me want to gag. This was significant coming from a man who was used to all kinds of odors associated with farm life. The kids got the ferret from one of their friends and tried to get me to let them keep it. There are limits to my generosity and the smell of a ferret was beyond my benevolence. Mr. Ferret was banished forever.

I hope you enjoy this chapter of the Farm story. I also hope you're surviving this winter storm and staying warm.