Yesterday we buried our farm dog, May. She was approximately 13, having come to live on our farm, like many farm dogs do, after being abandoned by her original owners.
May the Dog was a chaser of cats and catcher of ground moles. She "farmed" every day with Husband. Although we suspect she was part pit bull, she was kind to children, pigs and cows but tough when faced with raccoons and even foxes.
While her roadkill breath was not welcome in our house, she found shelter in soft piles of straw in the barn and sunny spots in the barnyard.
Having already enjoyed wide open spaces, stealing water from the cows' deep, cool tank, snacking on pigs (that died of natural causes) and rodents (that didn't), doing daily "work," barking vigorously at every possible feed truck, sampling every type of poop, I have to wonder how farm dog heaven could be any better than farm life.
May the Farm Dog
May 2000-March 2013