I woke to the gentle lowing of cattle all around me – which would probably be kind of a WTF moment for most people but I’ve been expecting it. Alas I’m not hitting on all cylinders when I first wake up; I put my leg on while TB impatiently waited, forgetting all about the cattle by the time I was vertical. I unbarred the cabin door, ushered TB outside to have a pee – and he stopped stock-still on the top step while uncounted ghostly Welch ancestors downloaded detailed, precise and apparently outraged instructions into him: Cattle in the yard! Cattle are not to be in the yard!
Yeah, it wasn’t just one or two, either. A frickin’ herd of cows with calves – exactly the sort of thing I’ll drop what I’d been doing for, to encourage them to pass farther to the north so they don’t knock stuff over and shit all over my yard.
Anyway, Torso Boy was off with a mighty yap and a cloud of dust. And damned if he didn’t know just what to do, too.
Now, longtime readers know that Little Bear used to do this sort of thing from time to time. That was … different. He was a slave to his chase instinct, and when he got away from me I was in for an infuriating hour of trying to find my goddam dog again before some hostile desert animal or, you know, condition killed him.
But Torso Boy was never out of control. I hollered at him, of course, and he even paused and looked back at me as if to acknowledge the call but y’know, a Corgi’s got to do what a Corgi’s got to do, Uncle Joel. And then the little shit dove right into the forest of legs: That way, ladies! Go down the driveway and begone, and take your brats with you!
The cows seemed to have a “dafuq is that?” moment as they tried to slowly get their bovine minds to process this very new thing: A dog is a predator and to be avoided, but they didn’t seem to recognize this as a dog exactly: Where are the legs? And what the hell is it doing? Then Torso Boy started nipping ankles, and they knew what to do about that. Time to leave.
And then, just when Little Bear would have been gone from sight and if possible the county, Torso Boy proudly trotted back to the porch triumphant. Mission accomplished. I honestly didn’t know whether to praise him or scold him.