JD is a pug.  He inspired my small dog experience.

For 16 years, he has driven with Greg Burch, his tough logger human,  into the woods and forest while Greg logs and cuts and loads his truck with firewood to deliver to people who love and trust.

As the official Quartermaster at Bedlam Farm, I can tell you that his wood is hard and  seasoned, his prices are fair, he is a courteous and delightful person to do business with.

In the country, I have met a lot of men like Greg, good and honorable people who work hard and do what they say they will do.

Greg is always smiling and J.D., the aging pug, is always with him. In the years  have been buying wood from Greg, not one single piece has been anything but good for burning.

Greg goes into the woods in Spring and Summer every day, calls me in the afternoon, tells me he has a truckload of firewood, do I want it. He gives me the price. If’ I have to go out, I leave it nailed to the woodshed, but he always calls me from the truck, and arrives in less than 15 minutes. When we get the wood stacked, we call him and get another load.

Greg is happily married, but his dog is a great love, you can see it in his face. J.D.’s face is always in the window right besides Greg when the  pull in, I am sure he rides in  Greg’s lap. Bud tries the same thing with me.

Greg is one of the Good People In My Life that I write about. They build their lives around freedom and family, they work every day of their lives they help make the world work.

I am lucky to have connected with him, I love our talks, brief but full of laughter and connection. We shake hands when he first pulls up and we slap one another on the back. We catch up.

I realize that we have become are friends, in a very country kind of way. We talk once a year, see each other briefly during wood dumps, we are both usually busy. I am sure we will never have lunch together or talk too openly about our lives.

I believe we are both genuinely very happy to see each other. Then we tap each other on the shoulder and don’t touch again for a year.

Greg will cry if he talks long enough about J.D. and what the little dog means to him,  he can’t even bear to think about the thought of not having him sitting alongside him in his truck. And he knows J.D. is beginning to fail. He bought him from a friend for $200.

He always – always- asks about Red and Fate, “the little dog who runs around the sheep.” Greg loves that story.

When I saw Greg – this tough and hard-working logger – pull into my driveway after year with this strange-looking dog, I began to wonder why it was that so many of the big men in trucks had little dogs. The septic man and his corgis, the chimney man and his English Bulldog (he cried for a year when he died), the farmer with his Boston Terrier.

I wanted to know more about this curious animal phenomenon and that was one of the major reasons I wanted to get Gus, a Boston Terrier.  And then Bud after  him. As an owner of big dogs, I want to understand the small dog thing and write about it.

I think these small dogs with outsize personalities touch men in trucks because they love riding around with them for hours in a day, they are local, affectionate, and quite often, brave beyond reason. Small dogs think they are dinosaurs, and act accordingly. I regaled Greg with stories of Bud herding the sheep, and he was fascinated.

If I told him that much about my writing work, he’d fall asleep standing in my yard.

These dogs give men a chance to open up emotionally, something they are reluctant and wary to do in any other context. I’ve seen more big men in trucks cry over their small dogs up here than I saw in all of my years living in cities.

I think these dogs open up nurturing channels that men rarely get to demonstrate or acknowledge, even to their families. These men talk baby talk to their dogs, and go everywhere with them.

It is heart-wrenching to see how these men come apart when these dogs die. Greg wanted to know every detail about Gus – I don’t recall him asking anything much about me, he would probably consider that intrusive.

I love it when Greg gets up here from Florida and starts cutting wood. When Greg and  J.D. pull in the driveway, I know that summer is here.

And that we will also be warm in the winter. Thanks Greg, for leading me into the small dog experience. I’ve already gotten one book out of it, and a thousand blog posts.

Also, a dog to hop up onto my lap and nap with me.