Bright Eyed and Bushy Tailed

  Maggie  My Dog is my constant companion, riding beside me on the Kubota back and forth from the chicken houses. She is brown, with a compact build and intelligent eyes. She is part Pit Bull/part… something else.  Ten years ago, Tara picked her out at the Humane Society in Fort Smith from a litter that had just been dropped off.  Maggie  pawed at the glass when she saw Tara, and leapt and jumped and kissed her when we took her into a small room to get to know her. She bubbled with joy and excitement, but would also snug up to be petted, looking up at you with those eyes. She looks at me sometimes like she wants to say something…she just can’t quite get the words out.

  She is sweet and gentle, wonderful with children…never snapping or getting grumpy. She barks when people pull up in the driveway, hair standing up on the back of her neck, putting them back  into the truck sometimes.

  I’m okay with that. I think about that power, too…often wishing I could weigh 45 pounds and still be able to bare my teeth and bark and run someone off.

  Maggie is also…a killer. If a small animal makes an appearance at the chicken houses...they are killed, shaken, ripped apart. A cat. A raccoon. A possum. A rabbit.

  She doesn’t kill chickens…she got a spanking for killing one in her youth, when we first built the chicken houses and let her come inside. Maggie never forgot that and now…even if I sic her on a chicken, she will act like she doesn’t know what I’m talking about, looking away and…I SWEAR….whistling. doo de doo….doo de doo. I’m not listening. I’m not listening, her face seems to say.  

  She chases hawks and buzzards away from the composter. She runs unabashedly at coyotes, snapping at their heels. I often wonder what she would do if she caught a coyote...maybe it’s best she doesn’t.

  She runs the cows away from the feed bins at the chicken houses, but only if I’m there. I’ve often driven up on the Kubota and seen her lying around with Tika, my brain damaged Blue Heeler, cows milling about nibbling on the green grass near the cool cell pads. They leak water and there’s always grass there even if there isn’t anywhere else. She will jump up when she hears me and just clear the way, barking and snapping. Tika, being a Heeler, will jump up to and bite their back feet, pushing them forward. Maggie isn’t quite as talented and usually turns them in circles til they run off. She is worthless when working cattle, but she thinks she’s really doing something.  

  But, mostly…Maggie is a killer of squirrels. Oh, how they taunt her! Jumping into the tree at the last second, running around it, up and down, back and forth, spinning Maggie all around until she gives up.

I do believe squirrels are her favorite.

 I got done with chickens yesterday and Maggie took her place beside me on the seat. She sits most regally, facing forward, leaning in to the curves. People drive past and see her, sitting there beside me, her proud head up. They wave and kids point.

  Maggie has a habit of deciding to jump off while I’m still driving, standing up on the seat on four legs, timing the ground so she can hit it running. The first few times she did this, she bit the dirt and was sent rolling. Now, if she perks up and stands, I immediately slow and so she can leap off without injury. I usually then stop driving, often killing the Kubota to see what she’s running after.

 It was that elusive squirrel that she chases almost every day. But, this time…instead of running up a tree, it ran up a light pole in Trevor and Mykka’s driveway. Mykka and Trevor’s dogs came running when they heard Maggie’s short yip yip and soon, the whole pack was gathered around the light pole.

  The squirrel ran around, up and down, barking and chattering at the dogs. His tail was fuzzed up and he never stopped moving. I watched him run up the light pole, safely away from the dogs. I figured he would tire them out, wait til they left, then go to his tree.

  That’s when the squirrel did a very squirrely thing. To my horror, the squirrel turned and ran DOWN the light pole, right into the waiting pack of dogs. It tried to make a mad dash toward it’s tree, but Maggie was too quick. While the other dogs stood there stunned, Maggie jumped on the squirrel, bit it, shook it hard and killed it DEAD. She sniffed it for a second or two, then, tongue hanging out...seeming to grin…she hopped up on the seat and looked at me. She then tried to lick my face, me shooing her away. I had seen that dog chew on a dead chicken, then kill a squirrel that morning already. Good heavens. No THANK YOU. I petted her and told her I was proud and she seemed pleased.

  I looked over to see Jake, Trevor’s dog…he looks just like a coyote and often I’ll tell them he fools me at least once a day. I cannot believe someone doesn’t shoot him, but they don’t…anyway, he had picked up the squirrel’s limp body and was trotting around, playing catch with himself, throwing the squirrel up in the air and snatching it on it’s way down.

  I drove home, Maggie sitting righteously beside me on the seat and I  pondered that stupid squirrel.

  He was safe. Why didn’t he just stay THERE? He jumped INTO the pack of dogs.Why?

 Then it hit me.

   Squirrels always want to go HOME at the slightest danger. Go to THEIR  tree, THEIR branch, where they feel comfortable. Even if it would be safer to stay put. That’s why squirrels will run UNDER your car when they are safely on the side of the road. They have an instinct to go to their comfort zone, their home…no matter how unsafe the trip may be…no matter that running away would be the best thing to do…no matter…no matter.

  I’ve done that.

I’ve gone back, I’ve thrown myself to the pack with abandon to try to go to the place I knew, the place I KNOW, the place that is MY place… place I’ve been put…the role I was supposed to play.…no matter how deadly or painful. No matter that I would do better to stay up on the light pole, tail fuzzed up and chattering a warning at the waiting pack below. No matter.

  I THREW myself and THREW myself into that pack of teeth and growling ghashingness …only to be shocked and STUNNED when I got hurt and torn, then played with like a chew toy.

So, I shall stay up here…close to the Light. Where it is safe, and my home is lovely with peace and harmony.

  There are no snarling dogs in my life anymore, waiting for me to throw myself  toward them, offering myself as a sacrifice.

Nope. Nope. Nope.

Think about that, dear reader.

Think about trying to get back to someone or something…even though it will HURT you, KILL you inside.

Don’t do it.

Stay put.

Up by the Light, where you are safe and can perch and watch the slightly chubby 41 year old Poultry Princess fly by on her orange Kubota, her dog sitting queenishly beside her, looking forward.

You don’t have to try to get Home. You can be safe and not have your heart torn to bits and pieces. Be bright eyed and bushy tailed and safe.

Don’t be a squirrel. J