Chester and Pigs

Chester

Chester is a good dog. He was brought into the family when I was divorced. The thought that opened me to a puppy joining my family was so the 3 boys could experience the unconditional love of a dog. I thought this was important because our family was dissolving (as so many have). As a lab, Chester was big enough to play equally with the boys and would easily learn to swim and could suffer wearing a baseball hat and a t-shirt or survive a wrestling match with the boys. As a fisheries biologist, I needed a dog that would be able to swim and follow me through the bush. Chester proved to be very sensitive and learned subtle things very quickly and easily it seemed. Many things he did were just what I wanted but I still have no idea how he came to incorporate them into his life. He always pooped in the bushes where I couldn’t pick it up. He never crossed a stream before I told him he could. He never chased birds or disturbed wildlife. That meant he could join me at the office and in my field work.

He has many friends here at the office and at the nearby river park. On the weekends he enjoys watching me in the garden and has always enjoys wilderness hikes with the boys. He never needed a bath as he swam in a crystal clean lake, never needed his nails clipped as he fetched the ball in the parking lot and wore them down there as well as digging on the beach. He has only been to the Vet twice. A good dog.

Now he is getting old (14) but he remains happy in his life. He loves the boys and has become a part of me. A life well lived! In common with older people he likes predictability, safety and regular schedules – not to mention warmth and comfort.

We can learn a lot of things from dogs.

Pigs

Someone told me once (and it stuck with me even though I can’t remember who it was that told me) that: ”Raising Kids is like herding Pigs with your hands behind your back”  Now, I remember this instruction because once I had to herd young pigs into the back of a pickup truck when I was a healthy, strong 19.  Boy was it hard to get those pigs to do what I wanted them to do.  The reason I was asked to get a couple of the pigs into the back of the pick-up was to provide them to the local Ashcroft Rodeo for the kids greased pig contest.  Remember that this is long ago when man thought he was more important than other animals in the world.  Well, by the time I was getting close to even touching a pig my jeans were ripped in the crotch and I was sweating in the middle of what later seemed like playing a racketball game to me.  All puffed out, after 40 minutes, I stood in the empty feed (slop) trough to catch my breath and rest while all the 9 piglets surprisingly came over and tried to munch my boots.  Then the Dutch housekeeper came out of the house (probably after she and all the rest of the household regained a straight face from watching through hidden windows my efforts to herd a couple of pigs into the pick-up) – she said to me ‘those pigs are afraid of the dogs so why don’t you use one of them?’.  I carefully lifted ‘Jake’ – the old toothless bulldog into the pig’s 20 foot corral – and put an old grey board up to the back of the pick-up.  Well, Jake was happy to be given permission to chase pigs.  Within 1 minute, all 9 of the pigs were in the pick-up and my problem became how to put 7 of them back in the corral.  So I got one of the other farm hands to help me.  I removed Jake from the corral and stood in the slop trough.  The pigs filed out from the back of the protection of the pick-up one-by-one to see what was offered in the slop trough and the other farm hand closed the tailgate when 2 were left.

Well, the piglets were donated to the rodeo and all greased up for the Kids to try and catch.  I heard that the pigs just stood there in the center of the rodeo ring in a sort of exhausted manner while all the kids rushed to catch them and piled on top of them. 

So I remember the hard work and the impossibility of the task to herd pigs by running and flailing my arms.  So I will always remember that saying as true for me.  If I can’t herd pigs with my arms flailing – how can I possibly herd them with my hands behind my back? – using the dog was just luck

I will always honour pigs for showing me the importance of struggling for life.