The Story of Sarah...

July 19, 2010

It doesn't matter what region a farmer or rancher hails from we all agree on one thing. A good farm and ranch dog is worth a lot more than money.

 Today I want to ask you a question. Have ya ever had a "Good Dog"? Chances are, if you have farmed or ranched for any period of time you have. My Daddy, Max Marble taught me that A Good Farm Dog was an essiential element of the Farm Economy. It keeps folks that mean you harm away from the old home place and makes a hand down at the Cow Pen .It cleans up scraps from your dinner table , but most of all it teaches us the importance of companionship during those days spent as the only human in a field or pasture. I'll use Daddy as an example . He had a White German Shepard named Lobo. That dog rode the top of his pickup toolbox for 15 years. One day Max and Lobo took a trip over to Olton to the John Deere House to order parts. Dad , in his hast to get back to the farm, left Lobo in Olton. When Dad got back to Hart he realized his shadow was no where to be found and backtracked , but Lobo was M.I.A. Dad moped around for two weeks until one day we looked up and a half mile down the road was Lobo headin our way. My Dads companion had found his way back home to assume his rightfull place within the hierarchy of our family farm. Well, the apple doesn't fall to far from the tree, and that experience led me to seek the companionship of a Redheaded Golden Retriever I named Sarah.
 In 1995 I purchased her to become the Shopdog for an Americas Country store we were building here in the Hillcountry. Folks would come in and fall in love with her. She never met a stranger. Little girls would brush her like a doll and little boys would play ball with her and old men would get glassyeyed and tell me, "Larry I had one just like that when I was 10." Sarah became my shadow. It didn't matter wether it was in the store or on the ranch. She was in it for everything she had. Ten minutes or ten miles horseback she was right there beside me all the way. She paid attention and would do as I'd say. If the days work was going to be to busy as we walked away from the house I could tell her, "now go on back to the house", and she'd duck her head and go, but be ready at the gate if I came back to get her.
 Time took its toll on Sarah, and in March we found out that she had leukemia. She tried to keep up with me on the farm, but most days would find an oaktree halfway between the barn and the house and observe from there. She'd get up to walk back to the house with me at days end. This last saturday she tried but only made it half way. I sat with her as she fought to follow.With her head on my lap I had to tell her to go on back to the house one last time. We buried Sarah under that Oaktree. 
 Today we could have talked about the milo harvest, or the price of a good goat kid or a fat calf or the floods down on the river south of here. I'd rather take a second though and celebrate the things a good farm dog can teach us all about life.