Livin' Rough

My time at Twin Bridges was always accompanied by Chubby. But, he was now joined by Spankey. This was the other corgi and a good-looking dog she was, with lots of “Chrome”, white decorated her chest,belly, and paws.

   She had previously attached herself to Eileen and when Eileen left the farm and I took over, Spankey transferred her attentions to me. This included waking me at an early hour as she squeaked in anticipation of a new day, outside my window. In many of my photos Spankey will appear looking up at me adoringly. I just had to love her back for that honor. And so nearly everywhere I went I was accompanied by two dogs now and they got along well.

   True to character, Chubby soon found himself a job of “Bossin'.” The horses, once tacked up (saddled etc.) were not UN-tacked until we were done for the day. It wasn't a practise I approved of but necessity demanded  we did it that way. A cinch, on a horses' saddle was tightened when we put a rider up to go and loosened when they returned. Then the reins were loosely tied around the horses necks and they were turned back into the corral to rest. With a sweaty and then itchy back, many of the horses would naturally try to roll, to ease the itching. This action could break the horns and trees of the saddle and so we would dash in and chase the horse up again. Poor horse-but such was life.

   Chubby watched all this and loved the power of it apparently and soon took over the job of getting these horses up. This saved us steps and so we let him have his “job”. I still had to watch him though as he never did distinguish a saddled horse from one that was untacked. He would continue this practise for the rest of his life.  One time, this job nearly cost him dearly. Whenever Chubby got kicked he would holler the house down (preferably when there was a long line of people waiting to go riding). More than once I had been able to put a stop to his wailing by simply telling him to shut-up, but if there were people around telling him what a poor baby he was, he would continue to tell them all about it for some time.

   There came a day when we were very busy putting out a large, group ride of more than twenty riders. I suppose Chubby could feel the tension in the air as we hurried to get everyone up on horses. There was a small kerfuffle in the corral but this time Chubby did not cry out. I called him and although he was still on his feet, as I approached, it was obvious he could not see where I was! My heart sunk to my toes but there was no time for emotion. I picked him up and put him in a small shed and took the large ride out. My heart was so heavy!. What would I do now?  Would I have to put Chubby down?  How could a blind dog live here with all this action?  I was kept so busy with the riders and looking after them I did for a time, forget about Chubby. Two hours later we returned home and got everyone settled and I had time to check on my dog. I opened the door and there he came!  Tail wagging-Good as new! A small miracle had occurred for sure and possibly he had just been knocked coo-coo for awhile?  I was certainly pleased to know he was still with me and not blind.

   In retrospect, I often wondered if his head wasn’t a series of fractures and hit just the right way would fragment all over the place. In later years he would indeed have a swelling come up every so often along his jaw. When taken to a vet, the only way to handle “The Chicken” was to flop him on his side like a calf and hold him down. If Chubby got even an inkling of anything happening he was gone and you couldn't get near him for the rest of the day. One vet out here in B.C. observed my handling of Chubby and commented that I was a bit “rough” but it was the only way and I knew my dog well .  How we had lived was just that-Rough!