Like everyone else, the very first thing I ever heard when the Amish were mentioned was twofold: they ran horrible and cruel puppy mills, worked their horses to the death, and killed them with a bullet to the head when they were no longer of use.

So when I visit and watch Tina and the family’s interaction with her, I can begin to see what is different in their feelings about dogs and what is the same.

I think sometimes that every single animal rights activist in America googles the Internet relentlessly for any mention of the Amish, so they can put up some horrific photo of dead puppies in Pennsylvania and get out the tarbrush.

I’ve seen this remark so many times I think I began to take it for granted until I met the Miller family and several others new to my county.

I was, like so many others, startled to find that Moise’s horses are well and lovingly named and cared for, and he had one of the great dogs in my experience, Tina, a magnificent farm dog very much in the spirit of Rose, the greatest dog I have ever had.

I’ve learned that animals are precious to the Amish, they can’t really make their lifestyle work without healthy horses and often with great farm dogs.

But they see dogs and other animals quite differently, their lives with dogs and horses are functional, not emotional. The dogs are not furbabies, nor are they their emotional supporters and best friends. Those honors are given to people and family members.

The Amish I’ve met are amazing animal trainers, their animals do things I can hardly imagine getting a horse, or even a dog to do.

Tina is missing most of her front left leg, caught in a sawmill blade on another farm and taken in, treated, and adopted by Moise and the Miller family.

My guess is that she is a border collie/heeler mix. She carries herself like a border collie and is vigilant and focused. She never really stops working. And her work is not cuddling up to people.

She is the farm watchdog, she is expected to alert the family to visitors, let them know if there is smoke or fire, chase off scavenger animals or rabbits and deer who come sniffing around the growing seeds.

She is almost never spoken to, and comes and goes where she pleases. She goes into the house at night and sometimes finds a shady bush outside or hay bale inside a barn to nap or rest.

Tina is an older dog, and her leg injury was serious and makes walking and running labored and difficult at times. She is very attentive to and protective of the family’s children, watching them, going where they go.

This dog is appreciated.  I’m not sure if they love her the way the English love their dogs, their communications are rare and mostly silent. She seems to know what to do, and she does it.

No praise, no shouting, no calling of her name to see where she is. There is nothing of the often neurotic worry and concern that shroud dog lovers in the outside world dealing with dogs.

Love means many different things to the Amish. Moise cares a great deal about the people, animals, and things that keeps his life together. As near as I can see, he values all of them.

There is no question that Moise, the most functional of humans, is a steward of this dog. But nobody is headed for the Rainbow Bridge, nobody wants to spend all eternity throwing balls for here in heaven.

When dogs die, you look for another one. That is how God set it all up. Dogs don’t go to heaven, and they are not sacred beings.

In a way, the Amish remind me of the old Irish trainers, who see border collies as tractors with four legs and fur.

I’m not sure what love is in this context. They worry about her, think about her, care about her, feed her faithfully and well. They won’t take her to a vet to have that leg examined, and she doesn’t seem to mind. It looks like it has healed over.

I was taken aback when Moise came to me and showed me the dog food he had been buying at the Dollar Store, where there is often an Amish carriage parked outside.

I admit to a certain snobbery about buying dog food at the Dollar Store. That’s my problem.

I gave him my opinions on the meaning and importance of dog food – Tina’s coat look dry to me and I thought she should be bigger and a bit more active. She seemed tired to me, especially in the warm sun.

Moise asked me if I would choose better dog food and I thought he would wince at the price of the dog food I was planning to get, but he didn’t.

That was a week ago, and today, Moise invited me to come and watch him plow his back 30 acres with three of his horses and a new plow with a standing platform on it, a luxury for Moise.

Tina was right there, every minute, taking up position in front of Jo, the younger son. Everywhere he went, she was. She did come over to get some scratching from me, she left the second Jo went into the brush to pull some weeds out.

I noticed they don’t worry about Tina when she disappears. They don’t call her, search for her, assume she must be in trouble.

I showed up in the afternoon, Moise was way out at the other end of the field, plowing, and Tina was waiting for him while keeping a close eye on his son Jo.

Tina ran over to lick my hand and then got back to work. She kept an eye on me.  I held my breath a few times as the horse and buggy practically ran over her, but she didn’t budge.

Moise told me at least three times this week how pleased he was with the impact the dog food I brought was having on Tina.

Her coat was shinier, he said, she had filled out a bit and was racing back and forth all over the farm, even when she had to hop on her three legs.

Every time Moise came down to my side of the field, he stopped for a few minutes to rest and catch his breath and we’d talk.

He’s needing to build a lot of fencing for his crops and later, his sheep and goats, and I talked to him about breeds like Great Pyrenees and Afghan Shepherds, dogs that love and want to live outside and protect livestock and from deer, coyotes, raccoons, and rabbits.

Moise gulped at the price of these dogs but was also calculating the cost of a fence wrapping around eight or nine acres. The dogs were a lot cheaper than a one-wire fence. We’ll see. I don’t see him spending that kind of money on a purebred dog.

Tina kept an eye on all of us, I could watch those horses and the skillful way Moise rides them for hours. Plowing is his passion for sure, his favorite thing to do. His son Jo, too young for the plow, was off to the side clearing brush.

“How old are you,” he asked me. “I’m 73,” he said, whistling. “I’m surprised.”

On Moise’s fourth round on the plow, we talked about riding together to the bus stop in Glens Falls – I agreed to drive him and Barbara. I suggested getting some vitamin supplements to boost Tina up a bit. I called the vet and ordered one, I’ll pick it up tomorrow.

Tina does have only three legs, which slows things down a bit, she’s getting older and she works just as hard as Moise does. Vitamin supplements seem like a good idea for an older working dog with three working legs and tired eyes.

Moise shrugged and said he would like that. I am pleased that he trusts me to care for Tina, who he cares about. “I’ll pay you for it, of course,” he said.

One thing I do know. I can’t imagine Moise mistreating an animal, abusing one, or neglecting their care. He is very responsible about and for the living things on his farm and under his care.

“Sure thing,” I said. “I’ll print out some information about crop protecting dogs. There are lots cheaper than the Pyrenees,”  I said,” but none better.”

Tina watched me as I walked back to my car. I waved to her and thought I saw her tail twitch, but I couldn’t be sure. I’ve got a great big fat folder on crop protecting dogs to give to  him.