Having the patience to teach a dog new tricks

I was visiting with a gent recently and was reminded how awesome it is to watch a well-trained dog work. I am constantly amazed at how some dog owners have complete control over the actions of their dog. In fact, some folks have their dog obeying both verbal and visual commands and that just blows my mind! 

How do they have the patience to teach an animal to obey their commands? Me? I do good to get them to sit and shake hands and I’m pretty sure that’s a trait that just occurs naturally in most dogs, but the ones I train usually shake with the wrong paw.  

My Ol’ Daddy always said, “You gotta be smarter than the critter you’re trainin’ if you expect them to pick up on yore intentions!” And I know that is true, but some folks have a certain chemistry with animals or maybe just a gift from God. 

My inspiration for this work and this poem developed one day when I had the privilege to be visiting my brother Bill, or as he is known in cowboy circles, Willy. At this time, he and his wife Sissy were managing a 40,000-acre ranch, which was about six sections, just out of San Angelo near the small community of Grape Creek. 

This ranch was at one time a horse ranch supplying horses for the cavalry and was a way station for the old Butterfield Stage line. The old building had many names, initials, and symbols scratched into the rock wall. 

Willy said that he once found an old lantern that was a running light for the stagecoach. He could not carry it and do his work, so he hung it in a tree and was never able to find it again. There were white-tailed deer, lots of turkey and quail, coyotes and an occasional mountain lion that tended to make life interesting from time to time. 

Now this ranch was broken into about six pastures with names like Pecan Mott, West, Stone, Bee Hollow, headquarters, and home place. of rough, rocky hills covered with Mesquite, Manzanita, and cactus such as Prickly Pear, Cholla, and Jumping Cactus. Each pasture had one or more windmills and water tanks. There were several creeks and draws and one creek ran through a bottom land that was flush with Pecan trees. 

This pasture was called “The Pecan Mote.” As you would expect, this kind of rough country made a cowboy’s job tough even in the best of conditions. Here, a good dog was a valued hand. And Willy had good dogs and knew how to best utilize them. I have watched him literally carry on a conversation with these dogs as they plan and prepare for the day’s work as well as while they worked. 

Those dogs were constantly watching their cowboy, eager for a command. A seasoned dog knows their job and could handle it without a command, but they have been trained and conditioned to be alert for their cowboys’ direction. Sometimes these commands were verbal and sometimes they were a gesture, but the dog was always ready, and their performance made a cowboy’s life much easier. 

I am sure that scenes like this are repeated many times throughout the west or anywhere stock is worked. As I developed this inspiration for a poem, I pictured a cowboy one early morning in his tack room with his Border Collie sitting at his feet talking over the plan for the day. They seemed to be in a very intent conversation. This could have just as easily been my brother and his dogs 

Daylight’s A Burnin’

Howdy Nipper, looks like yore rarin’ to go.

I’ll be ready soon’s I mend this tack…

some jughead musta just give it a throw,

anyhow, it warn’t hangin’ on the rack.

But I’ve pert near got the tangle out

if this dadgum kink would just turn loose.

Thought I’d hang it on that blue roan’s snout,

but he’s been actin’ silly as a goose!

Pard, what do you think about that Dapple Grey? 

Bet he’ll shore give yore innards a jolt,

an’ fer no reason he’ll run away.

Why you reckon he always wants to bolt?

Guess I need to use that ol’ yeller hoss,

yet I ain’t so shore he has much bottom.

His dam shore ‘nuff found favor with the boss,

but dadgumit, he retired her last autumn.

Come to think of it, that black shore is shiny.

But you’d dang shore better keep his head up

‘cuz he’ll unseat you an’ bust yore hinny,

leave you sittin’ there yelpin’ like a pup.

An’ I never did like that ol’ Pat much,

dang shore acts sorta wimpy, don’t you think?

An’ that young colt, it’s skittish to yore touch,

a bit gotch eyed an’ wilder than a mink!

I think I’ll just dab a loop on ol’ Red,

he’s as savvy a hoss as you will find.

Dang shore’ll keep his head in most any fray,

an’ it takes that to keep you out of a bind.

Wal, we gotta work those beeves in Hanes meadow,

so, it’ll shore ‘nuff be a long hard day,

an’ the goin’ will be sorta slow.

When I finish this, we’ll be on our way.

There! That dang ol’ kink has about met its fate.

Shore would like to grease it up just a bit,

but I reckon that job will have to wait.

We better start ‘fore the boss throws a fit.

Thanks, pard, fer helpin’ sort out my thinkin,’

it shore ‘nuff had my head jest a churnin.’

Would pert near make yore ol’ eyes go to blinkin.’

Wal, let’s hit a trot… daylights a burnin’!

© Ol’ Jim Cathey    

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