Jolene’s Family Reunion Isn’t Just Fun and Games

Mister would like you to know that we had a record two naps in one day. We were staying at the farm where Jolene was born. Call it Lamb Nation; nine newborns frolic in the field close to where we’re camped. Ignoring them, Mister appreciates the Rollin’ Rancho, our human-sized A-frame crate, as it offers air-conditioned naps.

We got a nap in everyday, something I don’t manage at home. In between naps, I helped wrangle the lambs for their first shots. Something I hadn’t done since I was five. We were getting the place in shape for a Farm Dog Certification, happening at the same time as our family reunion the coming weekend. It was a ten-day dog celebration, starting the weekend before with five related Vallhunds at the scentwork trial. Jolene was thrilled because her parents and two siblings were here on the farm. The party never stopped.

Mister was unnerved. He says the dogs all looked like Jolene. A whole pack of these weird-colored dogs, and he was the only redhead in the bunch. Maybe he felt like that one black lamb. Not quite like the others. Or maybe all the tomfoolery made him feel rebellious, even if it took more energy than Mister likes to spend.

Mister escaped our traveling fence and ran wild. The first time, he did it because I was out of view. But he found cat food in the barn. Not everyone’s drug of choice, but it’s his. So he channeled his Steve McQueen cool, like in The Great Escape. He was not jumping the fence, but sneaking under the trailer step. But still somewhat cool.

I fixed the fence, and he broke out again. And then again. When Mister breaks out, he stops as soon as he can eat something. So the breakout king had diarrhea from eating unholy things all week. Mister is a stress eater who doesn’t know his name or even come when I shriek the never-fail word, cookies. Mister says, Let’s take another nap.

Meanwhile, Jolene and I had been practicing and were ready for Farm Dog Certification. It’s a bit like Canine Good Citizen, except farm animals are involved. There is walking on a loose leash and a ten-second stay on a bale of hay. Basic good manners in a farm environment. I wondered if Jolene would want to herd the sheep, especially with those nine lambs popcorning off in all directions. But for all the chaos Mister was feeling, she seemed, (dare I say it?) almost mature.

Jolene did all the challenges, and we passed our certification. Mister shook his head from side to side, creating a small breeze with his ears. He says you don’t have to do the test to be a farm dog. I don’t argue. He prefers to oversee from a safe distance and leave the hands-on work to his underlings.

Jolene got more letters after her name, ribbons, and another medallion. They like giving out medallions in Texas. The judges presented the dogs with small stuffed lamb toys. Finally, an award for the one who did the work.

One part of the trial is to walk politely past another dog. Jolene and I volunteered to be the dog they walked past. We spent hours passing golden retrievers and Aussies. Dobermans and Cardigan Corgis. Dogs that would intimidate Mister, who was resting in a crate where he didn’t have to see all the strangers with Jolene.

I think it might be the thing I was most proud of all week. Watching Jolene cope and still be such an agreeable companion. In those moments, I can’t take any credit for her. Who she became was never up to me. But I cheer her every stride.

By the end of the trial, five siblings had been there all day, but ironically, it was Party Girl who had to leave before the barbecue. Parker and Penny, the Parental Peas, remained. Our brother Ragnar was in the pool with his human. Mira, Simone and Jolene took strafing runs under our chairs. It was hard to tell them apart, not just in appearance but in behavior. Mira’s human calls the girls twins. Closer than sisters.

The humans fell into a circle of chairs with cold drinks. There were burgers on the grill and more dog stories. Dogs that had walked on and bequeathed each of us to this litter of pups. I felt at home with my new friends. In these last years of long work hours, I haven’t had much of a social life. Jolene says, stick with me.

Mister was in the yard with the Vallhunds, not that he approved of their rambunctious frolicking. It’s just that he met someone else there who wasn’t that funny color and also passively disapproved of their behavior. Her name was Zelda. She made the first move, walking over and dropping her backside against his, clearly believing the two of them were the only rational minds. I won’t put words into Zelda’s mouth. She needs no translation.

Then we posed for a sibling portrait. Looking at it now, the dogs are still hard to tell apart, but the humans don’t look at all related. We might be odd ducks, or maybe we all have a bit of the black sheep in us. That makes us a kind of family, too.

At the end of this very long and nap-less day, the dogs and I dragged ourselves back to the Rollin’ Rancho. Mister was too tired to break out, and he collapsed in a reverse sploot on the bed, his feet floating up in four directions. I checked my email for work calls, and Jolene stood her feet on my knee. She had bright eyes and her funny smile, like she does when she wants us to go do something. This dog. The more we’re together, the more she wants to be together.

In the morning we folded down and started for home. Mister and Jolene continue to be as different as two dogs can be, but I have changed. Apparently, I’ve become someone who travels to dog shows. We all have campers, and they say that Albuquerque has great dog trials. And Vallhund nationals are in Colorado this year, so I invited my new friends to my farm. As for Mister, he takes comfort in knowing Zelda, who is a dog of great taste and the finest manners, will be there to commiserate with him.

Thinking about the week, I wish the dogs could have played more. That was the reason we came, but the dogs played every day. Why did I think that? Was it all the hours Jolene sat by my feet waiting for the next thing? Giving me a lick that reminded me what fun we were having when my mind wandered off to daydream.

For the millionth time that day, I understood we don’t deserve our companion animals. These pups who spent more time keeping close than playing. They certainly don’t care about ribbons. Even Mister, who prefers a more remote life, stayed close by choice. I confess, I expected to be abandoned.

People say dogs teach us about love, but I think it’s something more than that. They teach us what constancy means. How to prioritize commitment but still be welcoming. They understand better than humans how much we need each other. Mister agrees, even if he’s the only redhead.

It took me a couple hundred road miles to puzzle out their meaning beyond the fun and games. The siblings stayed close because they were busy doing what they were born to do. They were being devoted and loyal family members… of their new families.

No longer puppies, they are young dogs who have begun their life’s work.

To be continued…

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