If you haven't heard about our Pig-herding Dog, check out the past post about Oreo's pig-herding endeavors. He was a crazy, fun dog. We called Oreo the dog with nine lives. It turned out that he only had three. After two years living in a fenced in yard, Oreo decided he needed freedom. So he began a digging campaign. Every time we found him out, we put him back in the yard and blocked the hole. He immediately begin digging another. Eventually we admitted defeat and moved his igloo home to our back porch.
Life #1 One night, during a particularly bad storm (Oreo was terrified of storms), I pulled in the drive and heard that heart wrenching thud. He had ran off the porch and hydroplaned into my back tire. We thought he wouldn't make it. In fact, he ran away, or hobbled away. After searching, we decided that he had gone into a field and the coyotes had gotten him. But then two days later he returned home. He limped, but survived.
Life #2 Several months later we recieved a phone call from the neighbor across the highway. He said Oreo was dead on his drive way, a fight with stray dogs. I was confused because Oreo was on our porch. The neighbor looked again and in total shock replied that Oreo was gone. Upon checking Oreo, we found a nasty wound on his neck from the fight. He spent two days and nights hiding out and recovering in our garage. Then one day, we opened the garage to pull the car in, and he walked out. All better.
Life #3 Sadly, a few weeks ago, the same neighbor called to inform us that this time the strays had won the battle. He returned Oreo to the farm for us.
You need to understand that I'm not a dog person. I love cats. But Oreo was special. He was a little crazy. He drove me a little crazy with all his hyperactivity. We called him our kangaroo dog because of his love of jumping straight up over and over again. He barked at every car, every bird, every cat, every light bolt and every peal of thunder. When I took him on walks with me the beagle came out in full force and suddenly my shoulder would be nearly dislocated from its socket. He outwitted me by sneaking in the garage every time I pulled the car in and refusing to leave until I gave him a treat...then it was two treats...then it was a treat of the proper flavor. It's been difficult remembering that I don't need to look in the rear view mirror before pulling out. It's sad not to see him jumping off the porch as I approach the drive. And it's hard watching his dog friends from across the road sniffing and searching for him in our yard. I really do miss him and his warm, loving welcome home. The house seems a little sad, a little empty when I come home each day. And that's because our sweet little friend has gone away. You are missed, little one.