Nature vs. Nurture

 A few weeks ago, I was at a public event that was 100% people who have and/or raise animals, and I was talking about my livestock guard dog-in-training.

He's half Turkish Boz, a quarter Anatolian Sheperd, and a quarter Spanish Mastiff. He's going to be enormous.

At just five months old, Andre (the Giant) weighs over 70 pounds and with all four feet on the ground, I can pet his shoulders without bending over. With two feet on the ground, he's taller than I am.

I brought him home at 8 weeks old and he went straight into the barn. Because he's a livestock guard dog. 

The older dog in the barn is Hercules, a hog dog mix used for chasing and running down the feral hogs that are like giant rats with tusks running in huge packs through the forests and wetlands of East Texas. Hercules' job is to keep the hogs, coyotes and bobcats off of our place, and Andre will be his backup muscle. 

Andre already outweighs Hercules by at least 20 pounds, but Andre's brain is still the brain of a 5 month old puppy. 

Hilarity ensues.

Wait. Is the definition of "hilarity" "massive destruction of everything in his path including but not limited to shredding human flesh and tipping people over while engaging in puppy play?"

No?

Let me pause here to state that I believe 100% that Andre will be an amazing dog in about a year (if we both live that long). He tries very hard to be a good dog, but even with daily reminders on my part and engaging all of his gnat-like concentration on his part, he is still about 2/3 Very Sweet Boy and 1/3 Satan's Favorite Son.

Anyway. Back to the conversation I was having.

I said I couldn't for the life of me understand why people would expect puppies like this to settle right into being an inside couch potato with a small yard and maybe a daily walkie because even with the entire forest to run 24/7 Andre is still a whirling tornado of good-natured teeth and muscle and a woman next to me said, "Well, if you get them young..."

No.

No.

Hell to the no.

This is why so many large breed puppies end up homeless between 4 months to 18 months. 

Especially working, herding, and hunting breeds or crosses who have been bred for specific *jobs* that require a high-energy, powerful, and take-charge personality. Once the floofy cuddly puppy settles into their new home and routine, if you do not give them a demanding job to do, *they will find one on their own*.

It may include, but will not be limited to digging up the entire yard, tearing out all the linoleum, unstuffing every mattress, eating every sock, and destroying every window blind. It's not their fault. All the obedience training in the world will not take away their need to be busy. 

If you decide a Great Pyrenees, Anatolian Sheperd, Border Collie, Beagle, or lord forbid a BELGIAN MALANOIS is a good choice for apartment living, because you will get it young and teach it to be a snuggle sloth, you *and* your puppy will be in for a world of sadness.

And crate "training" any of the above breeds or crosses (leaving the pup/dog locked in a cage while you are gone or at night) so no destruction can occur doesn't make a good dog. It makes a neurotic unfulfilled dog that will get worse, not better, with time. 

Just. Don't.

Experienced livestock guard dog owners know that even while 100% immersed in livestock guard duties from birth, a pup cannot be trusted to be completely trustworthy till they are 2 years old. 

Dogs have been humans' best friends and workmates for thousands of years. It's our job to make sure we don't ask them to do anything that's impossible for them to do.

Because they'll die trying. 

Just look at the euthanasia records at the shelters.

Andre at four months old. I'm sitting in a chair and he's flat-footed on the ground.😬

"It Is Better to Light a Single Candle Than Curse the Darkness"

 This is a ghost story, so if you don't like those, just move along. 

When Ward was alive, we enjoyed watching paranormal shows. We always rooted for the ghosts. 

After Ward died, he showed me in several ways that he was still here, and in many ways I felt like he was holding vigil over my grief while I mourned the loss of the love of my life. Small pressures on the side of the bed, an unexplained breeze, things moved around just a bit from where they were left, and once, a bright flash of light across the midnight ceiling. 

I hear him talking to me in my head, not in a, "Ward would say so-and-so in this scenario" way, but actually hear his voice calmly, compassionately, and conversationally like he was in the room with me.

And I really think he is, because when all is said and done, where else would he go? From the moment we met each other, the only place we wanted to be was together. 

"AHA! You, you supposed atheist you! Are you admitting that you now believe in a Higher Power?"

Ummm...no. Still don't. Sorry. I believe in Science, and Science says that energy cannot be destroyed, only transferred somewhere else. What ya'll call a "soul" is the energy that keeps us from being a mound of squishy goo. Our energy walks around in our human suit till it's too fucked up to work right anymore, and then it leaves it (at which point we turn into a mound of squishy goo unless we are pumped full of chemicals or burnt into ashes). 

Our energy, our personality, goes on. Some to new adventures in some other dimension, some run to the back of the line for another ride on the humanity slide, some to rest quietly somewhere because being a human was a freaking nightmare, and some stay right where they were. 

Anyway. He's here. 

So, we still watch paranormal shows, rooting for the ghosts, and a funny thing happened when I started watching "Kindred Spirits" and they broke out the flashlights and little lighty-up boxes, telling the spirits they could communicate by turning them on. Right after we started watching the series, I had to leave for the weekend, leaving my friend Penny to house sit, and when I came back a few of the candles in the fireplace were on.

I have a set of 8 LED battery-operated candles in the fireplace that have a remote to turn them on and off. They aren't expensive ones, so the entire set up is really rudimentary. I thought Penny had turned them on to jack with me. Since she has also been known to rearrange some of my mugs on my mug wall, it was really in her wheelhouse of things she would do. 

So, I shook my head and turned them off.

A few hours later, one was on. 

Later, another few- different ones from before.

Intrigued, I investigated.

I tried turning JUST ONE candle on using the remote, even holding it up to just one candle, but the remote turns them all on and then turns them all off. To turn them on separately requires picking up the candle, removing the bottom, and clicking the switch from off to on. 

I called my brother, Mr. Gadget, and sent him a photo of the candles and remote and asked him if there were any way Penny could be, I dunno...remotely controlling something from 30 miles away. His professional response: "Nope. Shit's haunted."

I called Penny and asked her if the candles had been randomly lighting themselves and she said, "YES THEY WERE. It drove me crazy!" Penny has been known to play a few tricks on Ward, as well as me.

And that's when I put 2 and 2 together. Ward was turning the candles on like the ghosts in the TV show. 

It happens several times a day, now. Just a "hello there" in passing. Usually first thing in the morning, and then randomly throughout the day. I just smile, tell him I love him, and click them off again.

When I was gone for my 5-day trip to Wisconsin a few weeks ago, I told Ward where I was going and when I'd be back (like I always do even if I'm just running errands) and asked the young couple who was farm-sitting if they were afraid of ghosts. I explained that my late husband is here and sometimes turns on the candles, but just say hi to him and turn them off. He's really very quiet and kind and would never scare anyone.

When I got home, there were no candles lit. I said, "OK, I'm home" and proceeded to unpack everything. I looked, and the small candle at the very back was lit, like it was a cautious test.

I said, "Honey, I'm really back now" and lit the actual scented candle I always light when I'm home for the day. When I checked again, 4 of the 8 were lit brightly, exuding happiness. 

I texted the farm sitter and asked if the candles had lit up while I was gone, and Jewel said, "Just once. I said Hi, Mr. Dixon. I'm Jewel and my husband and I are taking care of things while your wife is gone, and they never came on again."

Recently, we lost two beloved animal friends here on the farm. The morning each of them died, before I even knew they were dead, all 8 candles were lit. 

Penny house sat again this past weekend, and she decided to do an experiment that would put an end to the candle shenanigans. I got a text from here saying, "EXPLAIN THIS" with a photo of two candles lit and the little remote sitting there...with its battery removed. 

That Ward. 

He's such a trickster.