Curmudgeons and Sheep

July 28, 2018July 28, 2018 / Lisa / 6 Comments

While traveling recently in Scotland, we were invited to a sheep farm to watch how sheepdogs work. I’ve seen sheepdog trials many times and have also watched a friend’s dogs work. I’m always amazed at the intelligence of the dogs and the bond they have with their shepherd.

This visit sounded interesting though. Our guide told us to not get upset by the shepherd, a man named Neil. He has won many titles and awards, and his dogs have won even more. People come to him to have their dogs trained, or to purchase dogs from him. But we were told to not get upset if he came across as abrupt or curt. He showed people how dogs work sheep on a regular basis but it was clear that humoring the public was not part of his agreement. He didn’t like people much, we were told. He preferred dogs over humans.

Hmmm…sounds like someone I live with. My kind of non-people people. I liked him before we even got there.

When we arrived he was out in a pasture, holding a young dog, with several around him poised for action, knowing what was coming. The sheep were also poised in a flock, knowing what was coming. Our arrival was slowed slightly by my not paying attention (too busy watching the dogs and thinking of my favorite border collie, Jax) and tumbling to the ground in a grand entrance. But once we were gathered, Neil sent out the dogs.

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He explained each whistled command as the dogs worked, herding sheep out into the pasture, bringing them around, and singling one to return to Neil. The young dog he’d been holding was let loose to work. The pup was rough around the edges but very game.

I sidled closer to Neil.

I asked politely if I could ask him a question.

His eyebrows shot up.

I asked him how he knew a pup would be a good working dog.

It was like he was suddenly illuminated in the brightest of lights. He told me all about blood lines and parentage.

I then asked if there was a dog that had been the best to work with. And we were off on a long, wonderful story about a ‘soft’ dog. He sang the praises of this dog, who had lived to be quite elderly. Soft with lambs and puppies and children but spot-on dedicated and focused when working.

See the focus of the dog by the wagon? She’s poised with a low horizon to not scare sheep, waiting for the whistle.

Others sidled closer.

I then asked about the worst, or hardest dog. Again the stories poured forth of a young dog brought to him for training, whose confidence was destroyed before he arrived. The poor dog tried and failed repeatedly, with extreme lack of self-confidence. Neil said he refused to continue training because he couldn’t stand seeing the dog’s heart broken every time he came in from the pasture after failing yet again. The dog became a family pet instead.

Two young ones more interested in playing with wool than playing with sheep.

After the stories, Neil abruptly left. Our guide said she was shocked at how talkative he’d been, and suggested we head back. But here he came around the corner of an outbuilding. And lined up in his arms was a row of tiny, ten-week-old puppies. Coming right up to me, he handed me squeaking and grunting fat puppies, talking about their blood lines and telling stories about their parents.

When we left, I thought about the contrast between what we had been warned to expect and what we’d found. And it was obvious what made the difference. Who wouldn’t light up when someone asked questions about the things they are passionate about, and love deeply? I didn’t do anything extraordinary. I think others would have asked similar questions if they hadn’t been intimidated by the guide’s warnings.

Me? I simply wanted to hear the stories.

And what wonderful stories they were.

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It Was an Accident!

July 14, 2018 / Lisa / 3 Comments

A friend recently fell off a ladder while attempting to trim a tree with a chainsaw on a pole. She ended up with a hairline fracture of her leg. She hobbled around a bit and then tried to make the fracture a full-on break by slipping in cat vomit.

While she had my sympathy initially, when it got to the cat vomit part all she got was laughter.

Another friend trying not to faint after trying to break her hand

Then I thought about all the stupid things we do as our instinct screams ‘you idiot!’. When you know better, but go forth anyway in the hopes of conquering in spite of your common sense.

Like the time my husband climbed a ladder to rescue his kitten while wearing only a bathrobe and a slippery pair of wet Crocs. Both survived.

Or the time my mother dislocated her shoulder chasing a rooster. She fell over the cage. The rooster escaped.

During my years on a fire department I saw many, many accidents. After a while you realize that pretty much everything in life is just one big accident after another. Think about it. Car accidents. House fires caused by faulty wiring or a tea kettle left simmering too long. Mistakes at work. Taking the wrong turn and getting lost.

The girl whose dog knocked her down inside an old growth tree stump where she was stuck, feet sticking out, until we showed up.

What could go wrong? Well, actually, nothing. He’s pretty safe.

I wonder how many times my parents fell for the line, ‘but it was an accident!’.

Followed by ‘I didn’t mean it!’.

Followed by ‘it was her fault!’.

And then followed with, most commonly, spankings.

My first trip to the hospital: learning how to ride a bike without training wheels and thinking the bike would magically stop if I pulled up to a curb. After all, that’s what cars did.

Nothing was ever the fault of these two siblings, not even this hike that scared my husband so bad

There was the time I swallowed a ring and was scared I’d get in trouble so I didn’t say anything. For days I could feel it in there every time I swallowed. Eventually, I assume, it…passed on.

Of course not all accidents result in bad things. I met some wonderful friends because I didn’t understand the distance between two points while wandering in northern Scotland.

Every day tiny decisions are made that take us through life in ways we never foresee. Where would I be right this moment if I’d been running late this morning, or early? Would I then have been in the car accident instead of driving by? Millions of tiny decisions all throughout the day impact us and most of the time we aren’t even aware of them.

If you think about this too much you’ll never get out of bed. So instead I’m going to remind my sister of the time she brilliantly thought she could swing out on a rope tied to a tree growing out of a steep hillside, and land without breaking any bones.

Broke her ankle

We’ll ignore the part where the siblings who shall remain nameless told her ‘you go first and test it’.

Followed by ‘but it was an accident!’.

Stories and Wills

June 29, 2018June 29, 2018 / Lisa / 3 Comments

Whether you’re a writer or not, everyone knows the world is full of stories. Everywhere you turn there’s a story. Every conversation you have is a story. Each thing that happens as you walk through your day is a story.

Some take those stories, embellish them, and write a book. Some add a few words and create amazing short stories or poems or songs.

And some stories are found in old high school wills.

Way back in 1978 when I graduated from high school, we were asked to write a will for our senior newspaper. They were to be symbolic of our leaving school and moving into ‘adult’ life.

Senior mother-daughter tea

Recently, I came across that collection. High school was difficult for me in a lot of ways and I didn’t know the majority of the kids. I had my small group of wonderful friends, but outside that group, I spent most of my time off in story world. But I thought it would be fun to read this collection after so many years. I couldn’t remember what I had written. Would it be wise and profound? Would it be something where I would see the seeds of a writer?

As you can imagine, a lot of these were the typical sort, where a guy wills to freshmen his secret spot for smoking pot, or the best route to skip class. But what amazed me was that several were stories. In a sentence or two, I could see the story, hear the writer’s voice, and feel the emotion behind their words.

One girl, who had obviously struggled in her bookkeeping class, willed to her teacher all 3,013 unbalanced worksheets. The story? I know of this woman and she is a finance person for a city.

From a girl to a guy: two musty tolo tickets and a wilted boutonniere. For those who don’t know, a tolo was a dance where the girl asked a guy, something not normally acceptable for ‘ladies’ to do back then. So what’s the story? Was the dance so wonderful she kept the souvenirs? Did he stand her up and not show? Is there anger or bitterness in those words, or humor, or sweet memories?

One guy willed to another guy in the same class better luck next year ‘cuz he will probably be back.

A guy to a girl: enough diamonds to last a lifetime. Sweet, but did those diamonds last a lifetime? Are they still together? Has he realized that she is shallow and has spent all their money on diamonds? Is she furious because he’s bankrupted them over the years, buying diamonds they can’t afford? Do they sit with gray hair, holding hands and seeing that single small diamond on her finger?

One guy willed his coach a lifetime membership in the National Sadist Club. That made me laugh. And probably any kid who has suffered through a physical education class will laugh, too.

One guy willed a girl my bad reputation ‘cause I’m not worth it. Ah! I see a bad boy and a bookworm! I’m convinced they eventually got together and lived happily ever after.

And then there were these. Read and hear the stories.

A smile to anyone who thinks life isn’t worth living.

The borrowed time I’m living on.

To my brother, the sense to come down to earth.

The best of luck coping with the world.

The ability to lose weight and drop a boyfriend.

For a bunch of eighteen-year-olds, some of these are almost profound.

And what about the will I wrote, you ask?

Three cases of yogurt, to one of my best friends.

Yep. No seeds of a future writer there. Nothing profound. And I have absolutely no idea what that was about. I’m going to call her and ask though, because after all these years we’re still best friends, and I’m sure she’ll remember the story.