Meet my dogs, Preacher Man, Mister, and Jack. They’re in the doorway to my writing studio. It’s Thanksgiving night, which is always on a Thursday. So, for the last thirteen years, every Thanksgiving evening (and every other Thursday night) we meet here to write my blog. It’s usually the All-Horse Channel, as I share what I know about understanding horses and training. It’s free advice from a professional and my way of giving back for what horses have meant in my life.
Want to know a secret? My best writing is always about the “Little Men.” Dog essays never get the reader numbers the horse blogs do, but I keep writing them anyway. I owe a debt to my dogs, not that they care. Look at that photo again. No one looks at me like they do. It isn’t about treats or baby talk or being lonely. We are a team, in the horse sense. We pull together like thundering Clydesdales. I can’t do what I do without them. So, maybe tonight won’t be so funny. It’s time for a love letter.
The Corgi imposter sitting with folded ears is Jack. He’s thirteen and is only jumping two feet high now. A Corgi rescue sent him to evaluate. I have no idea how he passed as one, but he’s sly. A kind woman with a show Corgi adopted him. She got sick, and he came back to me off and on while she was in treatment. I didn’t want her to give him up, though she thought it would be best for Jack. We made a deal, and he stayed with her. When she died, he came here to stay. No dog would ever brag about being a rescue, so he prefers to be called an inheritance. Treasure passed on.
This year, Jack got promoted to the cat half of the house with the Dude Rancher and his feline friend. It was a little too quiet after the old cat died. A reactive dog who gets to pretend he’s an only dog is almost indifferent to gravity. The Dude Rancher takes him for walks on the farm and Jack makes sure the Corgis bark at him. Dog applause. Jack believes the old wives’ tale that cats steal breath from babies, so when the Dude Rancher naps, Jack positions himself on his chest. Peach, the cat, sits inches away on the armrest, staring, which is the same thing as threatening murder. Jack folds his ears and quivers a bit, but holds his ground. He is that brave.
Several times a day Jack comes back to the Corgi ghetto to gloat, not that the other Little Men care. Preacher and Mister know they are already only dogs. And they have a yard to protect. Just last summer, a herd of extremely pregnant deer stood beside the fence as they barked, not at full volume, but still ferocious. The deer stared back in a silent dare. The dogs ran to me for praise and then back to bark. The deer, who looked like watermelons on toothpicks, were clearly mocking the dogs. It wasn’t fair.
For readers getting ready to leave because I haven’t mentioned horses, wait. Calming Signals! My Affirmative Training methods are firmly based in understanding a horse’s calming signals. I write about them constantly, but did you know the phrase comes from Turid Rugaas and the dog world?
Preacher Man is also thirteen. His dental bills could fund a college education, he has old-man lumps, and he barks as much as ever, which has been non-stop since 2014. It used to be a piercing, fingers-on-the-chalkboard, machine-gun yip. I know how he got that way, so I tell him he’s a good boy. The bark has dropped a couple of octaves as he’s aged. Some days he is calm enough to sleep on my lap without tearing off buttons and ripping out earrings in the process. Now his bark is more of a moany, singsong, yowly blues anthem. Almost a whisper bark. Fair warning: the older Preacher gets, the less I’ll travel for clinics. I promised him.
Does anyone know what it is about Corgis and cat beds? I bought a nice new hammock bed for Mister so he could stretch into a nice reverse sploot, but he won’t sleep on it without his cat bed. He and Preach fit into cat beds like a fifty-eight-year-old beer-drinkin’, junkyard-cussin’, multi-sport fanatic fits in a midriff tank top and skinny jeans. Oh, tell the truth. You think Corgis have better backsides, too.
Mister is the new dog, only here two years, but he’s traveled over 20k miles with me so far, going to clinics coast-to-coast in our A-frame trailer. He stands guard on picnic tables for the height advantage. Relaxes me after work by letting me rub his belly. And if he hears something at night, he straddles my chest. I slap the bed, a move I learned from dating a wrestler when I was in high school, but he keeps me pinned. It’s how he herds me, not by nipping my heels. It’s easier to just sit on me. Fewer precious calories burned and using gravity as a weapon is common sense.
I’ve been self-employed since I was twenty, and I think the main reason was so I could bring generations of good dogs to work with me.
What a luxury to cast Mister as the leading man in my recent travel memoir, Undomesticated Women. It was like eating dessert for breakfast to get to say so much about him, but a challenge to do him justice. I couldn’t have gone a mile without him beside me. Harnessed and clipped in for safety, his head resting on the console, he watched me drive. He’s not overtly affectionate, but he held me with his eyes, like we’ve known each other forever. He’s Keanu Reeves cool, if Keanu had better ears.
What Mister means to me, what each of my dogs has meant, is like trying to describe the air I breathe.
Horses are my passion, but dogs are family. No shade on cat lovers, but for most of us, our first horse was a dog, the animal we had while whining for a horse. They trotted along as we cantered in our tennis shoes and nickered and dreamed, never taking it personally. They were animals that could come into the house. Okay, not until I left home, but still. I don’t throw silly words like rescue around because I’m not doing them any favors. Any dog will tell you it’s the other way around. Rescuing humans is hard work, especially one that wanders off like I do.
Dogs are much better human trainers than horses will ever be. They get us to smile when we are mad at people and ready to give up. They let us cry on them and then keep our secrets. (Think human calming signals.) Dogs excel at making a big deal out of simple things, wagging to remind us of our fabulous good fortune. They walk us through our lives, good days and bad, with a loyalty that is incomparable.
This Thanksgiving, I am grateful for so many blessings in my life. But even that, I learned from dogs.
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Available Now! Undomesticated Women, Anectdotal Evidence from the Road, Mister’s new travel memoir. Ride along with us on a clinic tour through 30 states, 2 oceans, and 14k miles with me and my dog, Mister. It is an unapologetic celebration of sunsets, horses, RV parks, roadkill, diverse landscapes, and undomesticated women. Available now at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and signed copies from me.
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oh my heart. Just exploded.
Preach and Mister say hi. They are doing their best. Thank you, from all of us.
Oh Anna = dog essays are just as much a grabber as the horse ones. And you hit the nail on the head – horses are passion and dogs are family. They are family as much (sometimes more) than my kids. And both my son and daughter & grandkids feel the same way . Believe me I brought them up right. My horse had to stay at the barn but my dog, Sugar, always came home with me.
Axel who lives with me now is such a good sweet boy – I doubt that anyone ever hurt him (unlike Suzy) wherever I am he wants to BE! Cannot imagine living without a dog, well and a cat – Smurf the current feline is a little different!
And Axel understands Jack’s feelings towards cats. Axel lived with Juliet for several years & she put the fear of god in him. Now he is VERY hesitant towards Smurf (who WOULD like to be friends).
At this moment I am “convalescing” sort of – I finished my end of year weedwacking & trimming a few weeks ago & found after a trip to the ER that I have a small tear in the muscle of my right bicep and a nasty hematoma up & down my arm! Frankly this sucks. Dont quite dare drive so my son and my daughter are picking stuff up for me & he does the labor intensive stuff (filling the humidifier etc). This is a royal pain in the butt.
I’ll keep you posted now & then but frankly complaining about it really doesnt get me anywhere!
Go back to the dr Monday –
Heal well, Maggie. Sad to hear of the injury, but with Axel on the job, I won’t worry.
You echo my sentiments here, Maggie! Hope you have a speedy recovery.
I loved this blog !! I had no problem staying interested. Quite the opposite. My first love has always been dogs. I have 2 PW Corgis and a McNab. They are my reason for living. Then of course the horse comes in second, but with my capacity to love God’s creatures it’s hardly a demotion !
I’m no longer able to ride. With my 65 year old body having failed a back surgery and weakened hand strength also due to surgery on both hands. Some days that’s very difficult to accept, but my dogs are always there to bring me much comfort. I honestly don’t know where I would be without these dogs by my side. So blog about dogs any week and I will be perfectly happy !!
Thanks, Carol. You are obviously in good paws. Take care.
My dog, Ruby, looks exactly like the dog sitting in the back. I was on my way to visit my horse, and saw a sign for puppies. I drove two miles down the road, then made a screeching u-turn, and told myself that the last thing I needed was another dog while I was grieving the loss of my old Australian Shepherd. The place, to my horror, was a puppy mill, and I still think about the puppies that I couldn’t take. Your essay is a wonderful, accurate description of a love that I wish more people had for dogs.
Thank you Cheryl. It’s none of my business but I think that old Australian Shepherd might have turned your wheel.
I love that you said this. My Australian Shepherd, Bella, passed on June 9th. When I got my puppy’s “papers”, her birthdate was June 10th.
Sigh.
Bittersweet memory for you, Cheryl. I always think when one passes, it’s to make room for another in need.
I loved this blog. Have always adored horses but the dogs have been family. Too old and wrecked to ride, I can still take my last little dog for walks and enjoy her antics as she sniffs pee and rolls in green grass!
I don’t need to say how much I love this
But I will
I love this
Thank you
As I look at my current gang of treasure passed on.
And remember those gone by
lucky me.
You are every dogs good friend, you are a dog among women. Thanks, Chris.
Loved this so much!! Dogs are the best!
Thanks, Annette. Yours are beautiful!
Thank you for your love sonnet to dogs.
I know it is much longer than a sonnet but it is a song, a celebration of dogs
Thanks, Linda. Always hard to be brief about dogs!
Oh Anna, how utterly delightful ! So happy to get a bit better acquainted w your dog-family, (esp after just finishing Undomesticated Women), which I devoured. Can’t think if enough ways to say thanks but then you prob know that one already.
But being overwhelmed by gratitude isn’t a bad thing. Thank you. Oh, again, thank you!
Okay. This makes me love you. Oh c’mon now! Not really . . . that I would admit.. Just got Undomesticated Women from Amazon. Can’t wait for a moment to read it, Review for sure. Sorry I missed you in Hillsborough, NC, Was out of town. Hoping for next year. I know you know how important your work is, or, at least, Mister knows. Thank you.
Thanks Kate. I know horses are my job, but I love writing about my dogs. Hope you like the book.
What a perfectly delightful Thanksgiving post about your canine friends Jack, Preacher and Mister, Anna! To know you is to know more about all of your family, not just the horses, IMO. Next up are the Anna Blake felines, I would love to read about.
Thanks, Lynell. I could write about the cats (only one left now, not counting the barn cats) but what if the dogs found out??
If loosing a beloved canine tears one’s heart apart, then my heart looks more like ground beef than a heart muscle.
Dogs are spectacular at the art of loving and help us clueless humans learn about unconditional love. Their only flaw is that their lives are too short. Most of my canine companions have come from death row at a kill shelter or from the passing of their owners. Not having them with me from puppyhood makes their stay way to short, but all the more precious. Where would we be without their love? I don’t ever want to find out.
It’s impossible to measure the impact of having a dog, especially the damaged ones. And I fear there is a good reason that they live shorter lives. Bless all dogs. Thanks, Laurie
DOG is GOD spelled backwards and I think dogs mirror God’s love for us. Pure and without judgement. Yes, dogs & horses are true gifts from God, sent to teach us, and it’s a shame that the human race doesn’t do better by them. Yes there has been leaps & bounds of progress but until there is no need for shelters & rescues, then we must continue to fight for them. You are a warrior in that battle Anna, your weapon is the knowledge you spread.
Thanks, Sueann. My first job after leaving home was euthanizing dogs at a shelter. That was 50 years ago and we’ve come so far, but not far enough, as you say. The only thing that hasn’t changed is my love for dogs. You’re right, that’s where we learn it.
Well, thanks for bringing back fond memories of my first “horse”, Mamie. A golden retriever only in body. She was really good at jumping over up-turned, wooden yard chairs. I would “halter” her, and the two of us would prance around the park. Had to wait until I was in my 30’s to own horses – a Morgan and a Connemara…oh, and “Mike the Pony.” My children got to live out my dreams.
That dog is a saint, indeed. As well as a jumper. Thanks for sharing her with us, Katherine.
Your dog post made my day, thank you. They are amazing.
Thanks, Gwyn. I agree.