Dogs, dogs, dogs (and cats)
Canines have always occupied an important niche in our lives. As I sift through a roster of their names-- Lady, Boz 1 and Boz 2, Joe, Tuerco, Tico, Troy, Thatcher, Mika, Uno, Ben and Sis—two stand out.
Joe was Rich’s dog growing up on the farm and Diane’s running companion when she made her daily jogs down the canal bank. He was murdered on the job while protecting our house from a burgler while we were in town (another elegy).
Tuero came to us on the ranch, a second-had gift from a rancher in Santa Cruz, Sonora. Tuero was a Queensland Heeler who always trotted behind my horse on the right side. When I was moving cows and they got pokey, Tuero would dart out and take a bite on one of their heels then scoot back into his protected position. Another useful trick was when a bull sulled up and backed into a juniper tree, Tuerco circled around behind, jumped on the bull’s back and chomped down on its ear to get him moving again.
And we had cats, of course, secretive nocturnal creatures whose job was to rid the barn of mice and pack rats.
Big and Little