Losing Poem
Posted 7/21/2007 8:00pm by Eugene Wyatt.
July 21, 2007
baa FINDING POEM Part 11
I walked the quarter mile back to Poem’s kennel and unplugged the fence charger on the way. I leashed her and we went back to where the rams and cows were facing off. She seemed to know that this was work and not training; I was pleased. I tied Poem to a wooden fence post supporting the cow fence; then I finished a corner of the net enclosure that would contain the rams. Again for expediency, I left the distant side of the paddock unfenced, thinking the rams wouldn’t get that far. I would have time to fence it closed with them inside later. I opened the corner that I’d just made and angled the fence out into the cow paddock to make a ‘wall’ that would turn the rams into their paddock when driven toward it. I took Poem on her leash and we circled round behind the rams to drive them forward. She began to move the sheep by changing her position in relation to them, rather than running madly at them as she usually does. Was she learning, I don’t know; but I was impressed and I praised her when we so handily got the rams back into their paddock.
Now I had to reestablish the corner and close the fence. I tied poem up to another fence post, directly in the path of any ram who would try to go back to the green grass of the cows. But as I was gathering the fence, Poem broke free and ran through the rams. I called her, but she didn’t heed me. What she did do though was to turn the rams back to me and away from the unfenced part of the paddock. I was impressed—pissed—but impressed. I called her again but she sped out of site into the tall grass. Before the dog come the sheep. I had to finish the fence, then look for my errant dog.
Poem was nowhere to be found, I called and called. In the ensuing hours, I drove around the property line, I visited the neighbors alerting them and I went to the Goshen Humane Society. Poem hadn’t come home and the sun was setting. My spirits dimmed with the day. She had her leash still attached to her collar, a rope 20 feet in length trailing behind her. I feared that if she tried to go through the woods that surround the property, her leash would catch on a fallen branch; she, unable to move, would not come home and die a slow death tangled up in brush somewhere. But if that were the case, when she got hungry she would bark or so I hoped.
That night I opened the door to her kennel and put food in her dish in case she came back. Early the next day I went back to the farm hoping to find her, but no. Again I drove the property line stopping and shutting off the tractor off every 200 yards to listen for her. I heard nothing. With dread, I drove the roads around the farm looking for road kill. A dead deer ahead looked like a dog until I got close.
Now I had to reestablish the corner and close the fence. I tied poem up to another fence post, directly in the path of any ram who would try to go back to the green grass of the cows. But as I was gathering the fence, Poem broke free and ran through the rams. I called her, but she didn’t heed me. What she did do though was to turn the rams back to me and away from the unfenced part of the paddock. I was impressed—pissed—but impressed. I called her again but she sped out of site into the tall grass. Before the dog come the sheep. I had to finish the fence, then look for my errant dog.
Poem was nowhere to be found, I called and called. In the ensuing hours, I drove around the property line, I visited the neighbors alerting them and I went to the Goshen Humane Society. Poem hadn’t come home and the sun was setting. My spirits dimmed with the day. She had her leash still attached to her collar, a rope 20 feet in length trailing behind her. I feared that if she tried to go through the woods that surround the property, her leash would catch on a fallen branch; she, unable to move, would not come home and die a slow death tangled up in brush somewhere. But if that were the case, when she got hungry she would bark or so I hoped.
That night I opened the door to her kennel and put food in her dish in case she came back. Early the next day I went back to the farm hoping to find her, but no. Again I drove the property line stopping and shutting off the tractor off every 200 yards to listen for her. I heard nothing. With dread, I drove the roads around the farm looking for road kill. A dead deer ahead looked like a dog until I got close.
Poem had run off before but returned in an hour. Now she had been gone for 24 hours. Was she caught in the woods, or had she been hit by a car, or had she been shot by a neighbor as a stray dog?
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