Our New Hired Hand, Maybe

We received a surprise on Thursday - a little addition to our family . . . maybe.

When I pulled into the driveway later Thursday night after work and was making the bend to turn into the garage, I noticed something unfamiliar sitting on the front steps of the house. At first glance, I screamed because I thought it appeared to be a wolf. Now, don’t go laughing at me and everything, imaging I was thinking I was Little Red Riding Hood or something (and “my, what big eyes you have . . . “) but from first glance it did appear to be that. Then as I got up alongside for a more accurate view, I noticed it was just a big dog. What actually, I thought, materialized seemed to be more like a cross between a collie (yes, Lassie) and a . . . wolf.

Now, I know that there have been wolves released out in our parts, so it isn’t my imagination going wild. He had a tan color and a longer-looking snout, so I don’t think I was that far off. Bob, on the other hand, would beg to differ. He thinks he looks like a cross between a collie and a coyote. (We have coyotes out and about around us, too).

Anywho, we thought it was our neighbor’s as they had been down the day before looking for their dog. Upon placing a phone call to them, it wasn’t though. Their dog had been killed, probably run over, and moved about eight miles away. All I can say is, shame on that person. Man up if you hit someone’s dog. If it is in the road and unavoidable, it is unavoidable. But if not . . . man up, and if you have a beef with someone, don’t be so petty and childish as to kill their animals. Man up! That aside, he didn’t know whom this dog belonged to either, but thought he might have seen it wandering around a few days before.

So back to “my” dog. He is kind of shy and we have determined that if no one comes to claim him, then we will (may) keep him as a farm dog. We have been in need of a farm dog. Someone to keep the racoons away from the silage bags and the possums and coons out of our garage. We have a door to the garage that is nailed shut as it is rotting and no good and we haven’t gotten around to replacing it yet (that and the garage door itself). The cats have pried back a corner at the bottom so they can crawl into the garage in the winter time. And we let them. Poor things. The only problem is, we now also have a resident possum that likes to sneak in there, too. And, let me tell you, this thing is not any small little timid possum. This sucker is huge. It is as big as some of the biggest racoons I have seen – and we have some big racoons around our parts. Them damn (pardon my french) raccoons have dug holes in our silage bags, made themselves at home in the silos and they seem impossible to get rid of. And we also have a three-legged racoon that keeps coming into the garage when the door is open. A dog could possibly do the trick.

But we don’t want a dog that is going to chase the cows. They do fine on their own walking out of the freestall barn up to the milking parlor. They don’t need any extra help. But someone to help watch over them would be nice, too. Hence, the problem. We need a trained hired hand. Someone who has been there, done that. Those are sometimes hard to find. But, Wolfie . . . (yes, I have already named him and what a catchy name it is, too! Don’t you agree?!!) . . . Wolfie may just fit the bill.

He seemed quite shy at first and not knowing where he was from or how wild or possibly dangerous he may be, I kept my distance the first night. This also meant that when I let Pongo out so that he could do his duty, I had to go, too, to stand watch. Pongo is a little shy about doing his duty, and rightfully so, and now he is having someone watch, let alone follow him around when he has a job to do. But, alas, he had to put up with his guardian angel doing just that.

Wolfie stepped off the front steps when we came out and he jumped down off to one side or the other, giving us space. I talked to him as I went out, keeping myself between him and Pongo. He shied away.

The next morning, Friday, he was still there. We put out a couple calls and no one seemed to know who he belonged to. Could be the Amish down the road, but they would certainly come looking for him if they had lost their dog. I wasn’t sure what to do about feeding him because, as Bob said, he may hang around if you do, and we weren’t sure just yet if we wanted him to “hang around.”

Later that morning, we picked up our taxes in Mt. Horeb, ran some errands in New Glarus, Monroe and Argyle, went out to lunch and returned home around 3:00. When we returned, Wolfie was still sitting on our front steps. I told Bob that I was a little worried that maybe he was hungry or hadn’t eaten for awhile because I had never seen his tail come up. He always had it tucked under his stomach – he either was scared, hungry or being defensive, or a combo of all three. But I couldn’t stand to see him hungry, so I made the decision then and there that I would feed him. I had to do a little cleaning of my fridge, but I was able to get some scraps together for him. I put them in an ice cream pail and set it out for Wolfie to decide if he liked what was on the menu at the O’Connor farm or if he was going to leave without a tip. I let him be, and a half hour later, I got my tip. I went out to check on him and he was plunked down on the mat in front of the door. When I opened the door, he jumped up but did not go far. I stepped out, talked to him a little and that is when I saw his tail come up and start to wag. I extended my hand out and, with a few nervous baby steps, he came over and licked my hand. Not that my hand wasn’t shaking a little bit anyway, just because I wasn’t sure if he was still hungry (his pail was empty) and I wasn’t really serving up hand for supper. But he licked my hand. How nice. I was pleased, he was pleased.

If he is going to stay, however, I have to make sure things are okay with him and Pongo. Anytime Pongo goes out, he is right there on top of him sniffing at him. Now Wolfie is about 4-5 times bigger than Pongo, so Pongo is not quite sure what to make of this. He sort of looks up at me like “whatcha got me into here, Momma?” I just tell him to do his duty and try to coax Wolfie away from him best I can. There have not been any fights yet, but then again Pongo hasn’t growled at him either. Pongo and Paris (Brady’s dog) haven’t come to a good understanding yet, either. Paris is young and spunky and all over Pongo because she wants to play. Pongo is old and grumpy and not in the mood when Paris is around. So, we have another hurdle to get over here, too, if . . . that is, IF, Wolfie stays.

And, there is also the thing about Bob. He hasn’t gotten close to Bob yet either. So he hasn’t been following him up to the barn or around the farm. He has been doing his exploring all on his own or following the cats around. Oh, yea, there is that, too. The cats are scared of him. Their tails fluff all out when he comes around. The first night there wasn’t a cat to be found anywhere, not even in the garage. I think they didn’t dare come out of their hiding spots to make the trek to the garage. Now they sashay along a little until they spot Wolfie and then they are streaks of fur heading to the nearest high spot of building. If Wolfie sees them, he trots to them. Unfortunately, for him the cats are long gone by the time he gets there. I’m not sure if he means them any harm or is curious. But if he hopes to call this place home, he has to get along with Pongo and the cats. Anything else is intolerable.

So, now, a couple days have gone by and he is still sitting on our front steps. We haven’t seen a possum or a coon in the last few days, so he must be auditioning for a job. He may have gone just a little bit overboard, though, but that is okay as long as you don’t get too close to Wolfie or at least pet him for too long. Yes, he must have chased a skunk away that second night, because Wolfie is not smelling very pretty these days. Bob has noticed more paw prints around the farm, too. It looks like he has ventured down by the freestall barn, but we have not heard any commotion, so maybe he is keeping watch over our flock (herd), too. He has now been getting real dog food and water so he seems content. And, he lets me pet him (when I can get past the smell).

Maybe he is looking for a home. Well, we are kind of a looking for a cheap hired hand; maybe he will do just fine.

Oh, and if you are wondering when I named him Wolfie – it was that second day he was here and he had cleaned up the food, wagged his tail and licked my hand. I thought Wolfie was appropriate because of his looks. Actually, I’m hoping that he is less of a wolf in sheep’s clothing and more of a sheep in wolf’s clothing. Oh, scratch that, I’m beginning to think he is looking less like a wolf and more like a Collie – more like a Lassie – I just need to put a little more meat on his bones.

That is, of course, if he proves that he is a trustworthy asset to our farm crew.