The Good Shepherd

Our beloved shepherd dog died last month.    Danté was not only a valiant sentinel, he was a faithful companion.

We were bereft.

Made worse by the headlines.

Pandemic.

Russia amassing troops at the Ukraine border.

And this week, vineyards and orchards of France hit by frost. 

Our son Julien shook us.   “Get back in the saddle.”   He did the research and leg work.

He put puppy in our arms.

I write about puppy as part of this chronicle because the arrival of a puppy is important.

A kick start.   A clown.   A new member of the clan.   A frolicking, clumsy, vulnerable, new-to-this-world baby.   A call to fun.

And a call to order.   Puppies require so much of us.   Physical care.   Discipline.   Consistency.   Stability.   Authority.   Fairness.   Affection.  Play time with their human troop.   An introduction to work.

A work dog is essential for a large property.    And work is essential for this dog.   He will have jobs.    Keep boar and deer from ravaging the orchard.    Keep stray, unstable dog packs from colonizing the front porch.   Keep unknown visitors at bay until we can suss them out.   Alert us to thieves at the plum trees.   Circle the compound at night.

On puppy’s second evening here I sat at a southern wall, my winter sun trap.  A warm spot out of a chill northern wind.  The northern wind reminded me of everything that could go wrong.   And that somethings will definitely go wrong, someday.

Puppy curled up against my legs, also absorbing the heat.   I thought about his name. 

Strider.   The speech by Aragorn (Strider) before the final battle in Lord of the Rings.    “But It Is Not This Day.”     

Strider reminds me that one day or another catastrophe is coming.   Something is always coming.   To shove that knowledge under the rug is bad strategy. 

Now is the time for us to instill discipline in this puppy who will grow big and tough as a wolf, so he knows friend from foe and proper action at the proper moment.  That requires a modicum of self mastery.    The Trainer once told me, “We don’t train the dog.   We train the people.   If the people are straight, the dog will be straight.”

Human work.   Constant aim.    Aiming for rectitude; the kind of person who builds a bulwark of character step-by-step, to know right action on the day the winds go cold. 

And yet.

“But It Is Not This Day.”   A time of peace is a grand, grand thing.   Today is a building day.   We train, but it’s not a day of war.   We can make plans for the future.   The pantry is full.   Family intact.   Barbarians held off.    The health to work.    Moments of serenity.   Today Strider is snoozing at our feet, warm in the sun.