Each year a venerable farm publication issues a call to their readers to submit their nominations for “farm dog of the year.” Since I have documented on social media many of the exploits and shenanigans of numerous farm dogs, I have friends that request I submit my dog. I have had some unique dogs with special talents in the past. None of my dogs have saved a life or come close to the feats displayed by most of the past winners.
Winning dogs usually do something incredible, e.g. bark at the back door after someone slips on the ice, run across a field to the house and summon help after a farmer is injured and cannot access the phone or transportation, or back up an angry head of livestock about to charge the farmer that fell in the mud. Many of the previous winners appear to be a pedigree dog in the working group that is all business when it comes to farm work.
However, lately, I have noticed some latitude in giving honorable mention to dogs more like mine, the Heinz 57 variety. My oldest of two current dogs, Bratwurst, recently had an aggressive cancerous tumor removed. Since his days are numbered, I will feature him in a humorous entry as the Prairie Farmer Farm Dog of the Year.
My wife, Cora, accompanied me to a meeting; and she became bored as the meeting dragged on. She turned to her phone and decided she would look at shelter dogs that needed a home. Living in the shadows of Chicago means there are hundreds, if not thousands, of dogs bred for many nefarious activities and discarded every week that become society’s problem. She informed me on the way home, “Guess what, we’re getting another dog.” To get me invested in the idea she told me that I get to name it; her plan worked. Since I am approaching Medicare age, I thought a low energy “senior dog” would be best.
Bratwurst was arrested in Gary, Indiana for prostitution and homelessness. He spent 7 months in a shelter waiting for some “sucker” to adopt him. I was that sucker. He was heartworm positive, thus testing our love for him with extra expenses from the get-go. To further prove our devotion to his well-being, we castrated him. He still to this day does not understand that logic! So, what are Bratwurst qualities as a farm dog.
He was able to hit a top speed of 3.6 mph at 9:30 at night to catch a skunk in the yard the night before his human mother had to be at work at 7 a.m. the next day. This led to an interesting interaction with my wife early in our marriage. She was about in tears an hour into multiple washings and proclaimed, “This is the worst night of my life.” I laughed. She wanted to know what was so funny. I countered, “Haven’t you been sprayed by a skunk before?” Her reply was a stern, “No, have you?” I giggled and said, “About 10 times.” She was not amused at all by my answer. Bratwurst and I were both in hot water, one literally and the other figuratively.
Bratwurst makes sure that when I get to ground level to work that he nudges my arm and tries to lick my face. He does not hesitate to lay underfoot and get in the way. When I do decide to bring him into the combine cab, he fights me mercilessly while trying to lift his 61 flailing pounds over my head. I should note, my previous farm dog, Leroy, was athletic and could access the cab of a 9500 combine by himself if the door was open.
When I am in a hurry to leave in my truck, he demonstrates how slow he can walk and show me all the items he needs to mark with urine. Whenever I exit the truck, even for a nanosecond, he moves to the driver seat as if this is that one time I will let him drive. He also likes to walk alongside while I back loads of hay into the shed and bark commands. I have yet to figure out his verbal clues.
His internal clock does wake me at 5:30 each morning for the most important part of the day, breakfast. He is also adamant to be home by 7 for dinner, thus keeping my workday shorter. Upon review, he is of no help on the farm. Unless you consider the ability to rip every seat cover and smear the inside
of every window with a nose as useful; his only true role is an emotional support animal when I am working alone.
Which is reminiscent of a famous President Kennedy quote. “Ask not what your dog can do for you, but what you can do for your dog.” He needed someone, and we were there. Since he lives on a farm, we both get to be outstanding in the field. Unless it is nap time; nothing gets in the way of nap time.
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