Serving the High Plains
Serving the High Plains
Now that 2022 is in my rearview, I’m looking forward to whatever adventures 2023 holds.
Nothing says “new year celebration” like sitting outside being sandblasted by intense winds and trying to convince a little brown semi-feral pup that I’m not an ax murderer.
So far, it’s not going well.
When his people moved out a couple weeks or so ago, the little dog that we call Brown Brown was left behind. He limped up to our place, and I immediately put food and water out.
My husband Wayne configured some fencing so that we could shut him into our garden area out front. And it worked. Briefly.
We captured the little guy in our garden area, secured him inside. I sat out there with him before heading up the road for a walk before dark. In that short amount of time, he escaped. No evidence of his digging out or finding a weak link in the fencing. The guess is that he somehow climbed over the fence.
Brown Brown, 1, Patti and Wayne, 0.
When we saw the property owner and a worker sorting through piles of things in the front yard, we walked over and explained the dog situation. We told him our plan was to move his little house slowly from the back door over to our property. He agreed, and said as they were clearing out things, they’d leave the dog house be.
Since then, I’ve been going over several times a day in the hopes of gaining the dog’s trust. He’ll pop out of the house that Wayne repaired and will slowly follow me over to our place for a meal. He’ll stay for a while, and then make the lonely trek back to the now-empty house to wait for his people.
When I call him, he’ll stop and look at me, but still turns and goes back across the way. His howls are heartbreaking; he’ll sit in the middle of the caliche road with his head thrown bag howling to the skies. He stays either inside the ramshackle house, or on an old pillow that is partially underneath a porch.
He’s not had an easy life, this little guy. The neighbors say he’s about 9 years old; this is the second time he’s been left by a family. He’s never been inside a house, has had limited interaction with people, and as far as anyone knows, no one has been able to pet him. He keeps a wide distance around people. I feel like I’m making progress since he’ll get within three feet of me. And when I talk to him, he sits still and looks at me. As long as I sit and stay, he’ll sit and stay.
We moved a sturdy doghouse out front, with a food and water station. We’re keeping both filled, and that’s helped the little guy start to put some weight back on. When we eventually get his old doghouse moved here from up the road, he’ll have his choice of two condos.
He looks less scrawny now; he’ll come running for hot dogs and conversation, he loves biscuits and cheese, and isn’t a fan of sardines. Maybe we’ll be able to capture him and keep him safe.
Brown Brown, 1, Patti and Wayne 1.
Patti Dobson writes about faith for The Eastern New Mexico News and Quay County Sun. Contact her at: