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Cindy, my cow dog.

We got Cindy as a puppy. She was a little puffball of fur with papers saying she was a registered border collie. She was black and white. She had to stay in a box on the porch. She was going to be a work dog. My brother's dog had been named Sambo. That dog understood english. You could tell it which cow to bring up to the barn and he'd do it. If he heard you say which field you were going to he'd be there waiting for you. Mom was a nurse so when Sambo was too old to get around she did the injection that put him to sleep. We had cows and lots of sheep. Without a dog the sheep were pretty unmanageable. I had a high pitched voice at age six so when I barked they moved! We tried getting a neighbors collie named King but he would just run home. We then got a collie pup but as it grew it became influenced by the neighbors dog to chase the sheep like wolves will. Both dogs were put down. A few months later we got Cindy. As she grew she loved to watch the chickens with her butt up in the air and her tail wagging. We built her a dog house and filled it with straw and an old coat. The first night in it she pulled the coat out into the snow and slept there so she could guard the place. She was not a friendly dog. If you tried to pet her chances were she'd snap at you but she was smart. When moving the herd I would just use hand signals and she would do as i directed. She would nip at their heels and keep them going. She loved cookies. Chocolate chip was her favorite. She hated guns though and would hide whenever we had one out. Unfortunately she also liked chasing tires. No.matter what one did the temptation would eventually be too much for her. When I was seventeen dad was gone and i had to take a load of stuff out into the pasture. The brakes on the tractor were bad and yep, she went after a front tire and got run over her back. She was in pain and couldnt move her back legs. I knew i couldn't leave her that and mom couldn't do anything. Cindy was so scared and in to much pain. I put a bag over her head and used the 22. I cried so much. Mom and i then cremated her remains. When dad got home we told him what had happened. He was sad but understood. He got the brakes fixed on the tractor. It all still bothers me and I cannot see Old Yeller.
Farmers are tough....not just physically tough - but bloody emotiially tough .

No one understands this about farm life - its brutal and harsh out of just damn sheer necessity.

Ive worked in a sheep farm ....and i couldn't do it:
Lambing season
Stock injuries
Old sheep dogs .....the killing out of mercy, and the random deaths from exposure etc, was beyond what i could bear.

MASSIVE respect for farmers ...

...they are a rare breed of endurance and fortitude.馃
Tastyfrzz61-69, M
@OogieBoogie you do what you have to do.

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