A heavy thunderstorm came through this evening. Late, about 7:00 pm. After a rain I enjoy walking to the back of my farm along a ridge. Some say one of the longest ridges in the county. The ridge breaks off here and there into hollers. Blue goes with me and runs off investigating places a dog finds to be curious. I keep an eye on him and bring him back in if he ranges too far. This evening as the sun was going down in a cloudy sky and the wispes of fog were gathering in the lows, I lost track of Blue. I called. He did not come. I called and called. He did not come. I stood alone on the long ridge as dusk was falling. I searched the tree lines and hollers. I called and called. Blue did not come. Did he chase off after a deer, a coon? Did he go back to the shop, crawl under the truck, lay his head on his paws and sleep?
I called and called. Blue did not come. I wondered what it would be like not to have him. I started back to the shop. I thought, Blue and I both know every inch of this farm. He will come back to the shop. Blue was not laying under the truck. He was not chasing birds in the sky. He was not peeing on someone. Where was Blue. I stood in front of the shop and looked back the long ridge. Coming along at a slow trot, lightly touching the ground with his little paws was Blue. I watched the little dark spot get closer. I walked into the shop, put on my heavy welding gloves and picked up my riding crop. I went back out front and stood waiting. When he got closer, he stopped. He studied me closely. He knew what those gloves mean. He has tasted the bitterness of the crop. He must have been thinking, "Now is my last chance, I will make a break for it. But who will feed me? Who will take me to the farm everyday? I will go to my master."
Blue walked toward me. Head cowered. Stopping and giving me timid looks. He took a good licking. Took it well.
Isomade, you will know what it will be like not to have Sam! Sorry. And sorry don't help!
