Oh Country Man’s dog… when will you discover you are no longer a pup?
You may appear to understand this now, laying there, begging for my love, but explain this week’s raw exposed flesh on your neck and back, the toe that is now missing, causing the old man to limp.
Old tired, weary and worn dog man, when will you discover the fight ain’t what it used to be?
I’ve seen you charge coons with my own two eyes, take them down quickly to my surprise. But never to Country Man’s. Not to the one who knows you best.
I’ve heard the tales. The countless coons, the few porcupines… the coyotes.
But that was long ago, I like to believe, and in your years, you’ve grown many to mine. You’ve earned the rest. You won’t rest, though, will you?
Some things won’t change, no matter the gray expanding across your eyes or the creaky way you stand up after a long nap.
You will still wag your tail at the sound of your boss’s voice. You will forever wait for the sound of him calling your name to get in the back of the pickup… even when you’ll need a little help getting there. Your heart smiles most, the anticipation, on that drive to the open fields and river hills.
Country Man’s faithful friend. You are his morning’s quiet consistency while considering a long day of working the field, the cattle. How will today go?
You are always there and always near. Unless you’ve gone after that coyote, that tom cat. You’re wild at heart; nothing this girl can do to tame it. Even though I will halfheartedly try, because I like a good challenge. But I like your wildness more. I really don’t want to change it. Don’t let me.
I wonder, sometimes, when you’ve finished the race and gone, will we find another like you?
It’s been said a man will never have another dog like his first…
before the wife and family take hold.
I believe that.