It was eight degrees this morning when we went out to feed the animals, and I thought of Rose, my border collie (The Story Of Rose: A Man And His Dog).

Rose came up to the first Bedlam Farm with me, she was six months old, and she was a tough, loyal and fearless companion. I always felt safe with Rose around, she seemed watch out for me during this very challenging months, storm after storm, extreme cold.

Rose never seemed to notice the cold or mind it, she sat out in blizzards watching the sheep, she stared down coyotes coming down the mountain towards the lambs, sometimes I would look up and see her completely covered with snow and ice, she just never seemed to notice it.

I think of you plowing through the deep snow, circling around the sheep, keeping the mothers and lambs together (after I foolishly bred them before the winter). You always got it done.

I took this photo of Rose up on the hillside near the farm, the grass was taller than she was, but she didn’t seem to mind that either, she kept a close eye on the sheep as they grazed out in the woods.

I have wonderful dogs, I do not spent a lot of time looking backwards but in this bitter cold arctic weather, I think of those winters with Rose by my side, I think of the times I fell down and she made me get up, the nights she woke up up because she heard newborn lambs out in the pasture, crying out in the cold.

Rose seemed to understand what was needed, and she was absolutely resolute in getting it done. I think of you sometimes Rose, especially in the cold and the snow, of how lucky I was to have you on that farm, you seemed to know what to do. I am eternally grateful to you.I hope you are running in green meadows reaching to the horizon, a thousand sheep stretched out in front of you.

I am hopeful there is no Rainbow Bridge, how selfish and disheartening to think you had nothing better to do in life than sit around and wait for me to come. I hope you are busy and free.