Poochy the farm dog passed away yesterday, just days before her 14th birthday. She will be missed. She did things right; didn't run away, barked when stock got out at night, barked at coyotes, ate anything you presented to her, barked at anybody who drove in the yard to let us know. She would sleep between the house and the road most nights under the boys bedroom window, she knew any two legged danger would come from the road. The neighbors 1 mile away never loaded hogs in the evening without us knowing by her barks. She could sleep in a snow drift at 5° with a stiff 20mph wind and have sweet dreams. She would snatch a milk bone from your hand every morning but if you tossed her a tbone scrap after supper she wouldn't even look at you until you turned and walked away, too proud to show you that she enjoyed your leftover scraps.
Perhaps Simons prayer last night said it best. "Dear Word.... I woved poochy... she wived a wong time... I weally woved her... Amen."
Well said Simon, her is a pic of you loving on her a week or so ago.
