Today I thought I just might introduce you to Hank…the grandchildren— named him Hank the Cow dog. You know, after that famous Hank the Cow Dog of John R. Erickson fame.
But I’m here to tell you he is no Cow Dog. I’m a cow dog, born, bred and raised cow dog. I spent my first five years working cows, riding on hay wagons, and keeping coyotes out of the calf pens. Hank is No cow dog. I tried to tell them that the very first time he showed up on the place. (Just like every cat and dog on the farm he was a throw-away.)
I tried to tell them he is really a marshmallow, this dog is soft! Soft! Finally the family has started to see that and they call him Hanky-puff.
They better never hang something like that on me!!!
PUFF?!?! Heavens I would die, if they ever called me a Puff!
Anyway, Hank really is a puff, he stays in the house 90% of the time playing with the kids, (Mom even laughs because they lay all over him like some sort of big pillow), eating the cats food, hanging out with the Mom-Mom always.
Me, I let the kids pet me, but that is about it. I’m a working dog and I want to keep it that way. I would never bite or hurt the kids in anyway. But they do have to, well, stay in their place.
Hank seems to always, I do mean a.l.w.a.y.s be hungry. That boy can put away sacks of cat food and dog food and anything else he can get his big white teeth on. Mom says that’s because he is a growing dog, he is just now a year old.
Boomer rather enjoys Hank showing up…which reminds me Hank never comes over (we are two fields away from his house) unless he comes with his people. Me—well, when Checkers was still alive I would trot down there and visit at least once maybe twice a day. I don’t go now either, just too hard on the old joints.
Anyway, back to Hank and his chowing down. Sometimes Mom gives us dry kibble. I much prefer the canned stuff, but she says dry as cardboard dust kibble is good for our teeth so we need to eat some of it too. I barely eat at it…blahhh, sure does taste…like sawdust. Boomer doesn’t care…he eats it. Says he is GLAD to have it. Heck Boomer is just plain glad to be here.
I usually just sort of munch at it, Boomer slicks his right off the bowl, even licks it clean.
Because I don’t really eat my food it means there is always food setting out when Hank shows up.
If I’m not paying attention he scarf’s the whole thing down and then heads off looking for any bones or something else he can eat. I swear that dog is a bottomless pit.
But, if I get there in enough time….I tell Hank he can go eat birdseed.
This bowl is mine. Then I hurriedly eat every last morsel because if I don’t….well you know what will happen.