I knew that raising a pup would be a challenge – it always has been. However, the loss of Grizz last spring coupled with the realization of how reliant I had become on the services of a good dog eventually led me to Lucy… and I was smitten.
The lady from whom I purchased Lucy advertised her litter as “adorable, purebred, Australian Shepherd puppies from working parents.” By the time I was able to make it to her farm she only had two females left. They were both cute and friendly, but Lucy was the one that made an immediate impression on me with both of her glistening, pale blue eyes and her immediate movement to my lap. I put her in the truck with me and we headed home with her sleeping the entire trip lying on my neck between my head and the headrest of the seat.
Over the next few weeks, Lucy grew like a weed and exhibited an obvious level of intelligence that exceeded my expectations. Within just a few days, she had already mastered “sit,” “down,” “come” and “stay” as well as fetching most any item I threw for her. Pretty impressive behavior for such a young dog. Plus, the young female was already mingling with the cattle around the house and showing a great deal of cow sense. Everything was going great until last week.
I came in from a day of fixing fence and preparing corrals for the capture of the spring calf crop to find Lucy acting more hyperactive than usual. As I approached the house she started running circles around me at break-neck speed. Nothing I said had any effect on slowing her down. She then left me and started running circles around the chicken house at least eight or 10 times before she ran to the barn lot and continued running through and around the cattle for another 20 minutes. Every command I spoke, and then yelled, had the same result – absolutely nothing.
I was really getting concerned when, at last, she finally slowed down and came to me. The little dog was exhausted, breathing in hurried and forced gasps, and looking out of wider-than-normal eyes like a drug induced junkie. Then I saw something that really concerned me – a white, powdery substance on the whiskers that surrounded her nose. Given the problems in this day and time, I wondered if she had gotten into some illegal substance that someone had mistakenly dropped or worse, maybe the druggies had given the little puppy something to get her away from them. Whatever it was, it had affected my Lucy in a bad way. I kept her under close observation until sundown, but by then, whatever it was seemed to have worn off and she was resting comfortably.
The next morning, Lucy seemed normal when I left for the coffee shop, but when I returned 30 minutes later, the same wild-eyed, hyperactive dog had returned, complete with white powder on her whiskers. Knowing she couldn’t have traveled very far and back in the time I was gone, I began to search for the bag of cocaine or meth that I was certain she must have stashed somewhere.
It was at that moment, I observed her run under the steps in the garage. I could hear the pup making snorting sounds under the darkness of the steps so I got down on my hands and knees, expecting to find a plastic bag of illegal drugs. But, to my surprise, the intelligent and inquisitive puppy had found a bag of powdered milk replacer that I keep on hand for orphaned calves. She had chewed a hole in the paper bag the exact size of a puppy’s nose and there she was, getting a “hit” of concentrated cow’s milk. Startled by me, she withdrew her head and looked at me with eyes as wide as silver dollars, and then off she bolted to run like the wind for another 30 minutes.
I still think Lucy will make a good cow dog. As soon as she returns from rehab, we’ll start the training.
Jerry Crownover farms in Lawrence County. He is a former professor of Agriculture Education at Missouri State University, and is an author and professional speaker. To contact Jerry, go to ozarksfn.com and click on ‘Contact Us.’
