Bud is the kind of dog who could get in trouble locked in a crate with a chew toy. His new thing today was pursuing a rabbit into a filthy, mud-filled swamp. It took us quite a while to hose  him down, he didn’t like it.

Bud and I are making good progress trust wise. When we go outside now, he has a pattern he follows. He goes to every stone wall, bush, or hole in the ground where he has seen a rabbit or mouse or mole (or bird).

He races from one spot to the other, with intense focus and concentration. He comes when I call him – always, but not instantly sometimes. He does not ever run off into the woods or beyond the pastures.

When we go out, I do my chores and I see  him racing from one spot to another, until his tongue is nearly hanging off of the ground. I give him a treat and let him into the farmhouse where he gulps some water (he jumps into the pond as well if he’s warm) and takes a nap.

He absolutely loves the life of a farm dog, he is pals with the donkey snow, herds the sheep a bit and loves to explore the bushes and marshes and meadows here. He is, I think, a very happy dog. Dirty, sometimes gross, but happy. It’s true, these dogs do have the hearts of warriors, the souls of angels.

I trust him now. He never catches anything (once, he got a marsh bird, almost by accident) and loves his insane routine. He gets plenty of exercise, wears himself out, and has the time of his life.

We are doing well together, I think he trusts me now – he pays attention when my voice is raised – and I am starting to trust him. The meat tenderizer has worked beautifully, and he is no longer marking furniture, eating poop or even eating  donkey droppings.

Bud and I are buds.