Ellie Mae: Farm Dog

Conventional logic dictates that it takes from six months to a year, for a rescue dog to make a full transition from the rescue shelter setting to her new home. Having brought Ellie Mae home two days after Thanksgiving, it has now been six months and change, since she joined us.

In this time period she has grown from a skittish, under-nourished, attention-seeking hound, to a calm, sleek, confident farm-dog. Yes, I described Ellie Mae as a farm dog, despite her indiscretion so very long ago. The unfortunate chickens involved might object to their demise being termed an indiscretion, but such are the injustices of life on a farm.

She seemed so shocked that I had the unmitigated gall to
block her escape attempts.

In the beginning Ellie’s only goal in life was to escape her two-acre “yard.”  Though the range fence that encloses her is tight enough to keep out wild hogs, Ellie Mae has the ability to dig her way out, seemingly at will. I patched up more than twenty escape routes, easily, in the first four months. Then I stopped searching for-and blocking-the exits, my logic being it was a lot easier of a route-for me.

I had worked extensively with Ellie after the original death-spree, both up at the original scene, and then with our own chickens, on the “leave-it” command. We worked simultaneously on the inside-the-fence concept, something I found easier to accomplish than I might have thought.

The result was that even though Ellie was occasionally missing-in-action for short periods of time, no disasters occurred involving chickens or any other livestock. The other thing that was obvious was that she only took off when she was ignored, or when I was in the workshop or even out in the orchard.

In dog years three-and-a-half went by, and now our girl is revealing the real Ellie Mae, and not the one she adapted for self-preservation purposes, during a past life. A couple of things have occurred to accelerate this process, the primary one being that Gluten-Free Mama has had to contend with some technical difficulties, health wise.

With GF Mama thus “on assignment” and off the mountain, for days at a time, I might have found myself in the void of isolation, were it not for my faithful companion. Faithful would be the operative word, for Ellie Mae is the prototypically faithful canine companion. 

Her eyes, as expressive in their soulful way as ever Dozer the bulldog’s were, fixate on me incessantly. She wants to go out when I do, she wants to roughhouse with her still new-to-her toys with me and she wants to follow me wherever I go, until I leave her hanging indefinitely. Then, in the past, she was apt to look for alternative entertainment, especially if Emma the dog were sounding the alarm up the driveway.

With GF Mama gone, Ellie Mae has found herself the object of much attention and affection, particularly in the wee hours which find me writing, posting photos on social media, and doing housework. Sweet Ellie Mae has responded accordingly, reveling in the whole program, her grin plastered comically to her face in a most agreeable manner.

Fast-forward to this past month, when I have been spending progressively longer periods of time out in the orchard. While I was still pitch-forking the eight, fifty-foot-long rows the first time through, I could only do a couple of hours a day. Now that the thirty wheelbarrows of home-grown compost have been added, along with the required organic amendments, and the soil has been reworked, I am in the planting stage. I can sustain my effort for longer than just an hour or two.

The work, though grueling and time-consuming, is most rewarding. Last year I had 120 plants in the orchard, fully half of them of the Heinz variety for my sauces, salsas and catsups. Having extended the rows by about 25% I will have closer to 150 plants in the orchard.

All this prattling on about tomatoes, is by way of explaining that in this past month Ellie Mae has drastically altered her outdoors approach to life. She has seemingly abandoned the need to explore outside the fence. Additionally, she has deemed it her role to assume a relaxed stance at the head of each row I happen to be working on, as though overseeing my work.

I will make frequent pit stops to acknowledge this allegiance, because it is so easy to do. Unlike Dozer, who never could stay in one spot long enough to flatten the grass, Ellie Mae is content to occupy her spot for as long as I am content to work. Smart dog-she knows the shelf-life on that action is limited…

I continue to be amazed. I followed the formula and the results go beyond my wildest expectations. When Ellie Mae was escaping, and even when she killed the chickens, I was not surprised. GF Mama and I had told ourselves that we had to expect a certain amount of inappropriate behavior. 

What? Me worry?

What surprises me is that the nervous energy that exuded from her for months, is gone. In its place is the relaxed attitude of a dog, who has fully comprehended that her hard times are over. 

My hard times are over too. When Dozer the bulldog sallied off to the great unknown, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I had never allowed myself to think the unthinkable, until after the fact, and that made it all the harder. I won’t forget him-ever-but alongside Dozer, the ferocious A-dominant personality, now resides Ellie Mae, the sweet, not-a-mean-bone-in-her-body, appreciative companion.

And that makes two of us.