Farm Fresh Blog

While Lily may be born and bred to be a cow dog, I'm just not sure I'm emotionally stable enough for Lily to be a cow dog.  Take this morning:

Am lying in bed, peacefully minding my own business, cuddling my precious Border Collie, (that's not true, she was asleep at the foot of the bed) when Other Half rolls over, slaps me on the hip, and announces "Since we have the cattle trailer already hooked up, let's take those cows to the sale today!"

Other Half is like that. Planning is never his strong point. He's more a "fly by the seat of your pants" kind of person. And since we both had the morning free, and since the trailer was already hitched because he took some sheep to the sale yesterday, he decides that this is a fine morning to take the cows to the sale.  Okie Dokie, Smokie.

"And hurry! They stop checking them in at 11 am!"

It is 8 am. My mind has barely had enough time to process the chores that need to be done, and he is already rushing me. Sigh . . . I haven't even had my caffeine yet. (Yes, trouble is a'brewin'. Cue ominous music now.)

So I juggle dogs for potty breaks and slip into jeans and boots.  He is already feeding cattle. By the time Lily and I get out there, wonder of wonders, he has, by some miracle, managed to separate the ones headed to the sale. The next task should be simple.  Move the cows through the chute where they will hop up into the cattle trailer, then you slam the gate shut and roll on to the sale barn. 

In reality, it isn't as simple.  Cows normally try to run back over you as you push them toward the chute. Large animals are frightened, or at best, annoyed. And it's tight in there. Not much room to work. People and dogs can get hurt.

While Other Half has originally planned to use Ranger The Blue Heeler, I have visions of the dog getting excited, barking, and running cattle back over us, so I choose Lily. She is Top Hand, the dog most likely to figure out exactly what we're doing, and how to help. Most of the time . . .

We begin moving cattle toward chute. All is well until Lily has a Border Collie moment and decides that she must GATHER the cattle and bring them back to us.  Holy Crap!  Get out of way. Try it again.  As cattle try to bound back toward the main herd on the other side of the fence, Lily is bounced into a fence.  My heart is in my throat. She recovers and heads them off.  With cows turned around, Other Half begins to aggressively smack cattle with sorting stick and move them toward chute.  Lily is TOTALLY on board now.  She understands and is pushing cattle along with Other Half.  Cows shoot through chute and into cattle trailer.  I barely see a flash of black and white in the trailer nanoseconds before I hear the trailer door slam shut.  Oh Dear God!  Lily is trapped in the trailer with the cattle. At this point I see her little fluffy life flash before my eyes . . .

That's when I begin screaming and running down the chute toward my precious puppy. Other Half has figured out that Lily is trapped and is working to get her out before the cattle discover it and stomp her to death. As I run down the chute, I fail to lower my head and am smacked across the top of the skull with a board or pipe, or something the size of a refrigerator.  See stars.  Keep on running to save my dog.

She has apparently discovered her mistake and is trying to be a Very Small Black & White Dog In A Corner. Other Half scrapes his knuckles off trying to get the cattle trailer opened, but manages to get Lily out before the cows see her. 

Lily springs out, all grins.  I am sick. I cannot decide whether to cry or throw up. I still see stars, but mostly I see the image of a crumpled bloody dog underneath angry cows.  Still a toss-up whether I cry or throw up.  Decide to hug dog instead. It is more productive and not as likely to upset her . . . and Other Half.  (who is very aware that if anything happens to that dog, the world will stop spinning, and life as he knows it will cease to exist.)

We roll to the drop-off location for the sale barn to find that one poor man is trying to unload cattle, register cattle, tag cattle, and put them in pens, all by himself. 

Cattle trailers are lined up. Everyone is selling cattle because of the drought.

Other Half decides that he must help this poor man. He bales out to assist. That leaves me with plenty of time to decide that I hate cows.

Despite the fact that I live in Texas and am married to a Cow Man, I prefer sheep and goats. Handling them isn't as likely to result in a trip to the emergency room or the Pet Cemetery.