It seems strange that I could not bond with the little red heeler. He would try to bite me if I snuggled him or picked him up, sometimes viciously. He would go after dogs at Petsmart unprovoked. As I nursed the bite on my finger and watched him chase the cats, I wondered what I had gotten into. Maybe because I didn’t choose him, or maybe we just had personality differences. He may have only been ten weeks old and cute as a button, but we just weren’t friends. So, when my cousin, Julie came over to spend the day with me I could not have been more surprised at how he acted with her. It was his long lost mom. He playfully bounced at her feet, wanted to be picked up, and she loved him too. He didn’t look back as she bundled him up with his toys and took him home! He loves her older Golden Retriever and her cat. Julie and her husband have three grown children at the house and they all love him. He found his forever home. I am so happy!
Now, my daughter, Shyanne and her boyfriend, Jacob think that I sabotaged the relationship because I only love BIG floofy dogs (not a typo, that is my word.) Jacob’s husky is my logo for White Wolf and I still am not over the loss of my wolves from over twenty years ago. I would be stupid to get a husky or a wolf in the city and with my lifestyle. But, there was another big dog that would be perfect for me. And my friends, Amy and Rob, had a litter of perfect, large, floofy Great Pyrenees puppies.
I used to board their goats and one of the goats met me when I got there and stayed by my side the whole time. I was so happy to see Tank, the wethered Nubian that I bottle fed every few hours.
Amy and Rob’s farm is called Lavender Moon Farm and they raise turkeys and sell honey. We were all going to co-farm at one point together and I am really proud of them for what they have built. It was great being around sheep and goats again. Amy and I visited while the puppies played and hid under my skirts (as all babies and livestock love to do!) as I carefully chose the right puppy for me and Doug.
The parents were so lovely and gentle and the father kept pawing me, which is endearing to me, and his little son did the same and I knew that was the one. Gandalf will come home to meet Merlin and the other cats and chickens in a few weeks after he finishes nursing.
My goodness, at eight weeks old he is a handsome fellow. I buried my face in his thick, polar bear fur and he didn’t mind a bit. I found my farmdog.