Our dog Zoe is a herder. She has herded us every day for over 11 years. No herding knowledge, only Obedience 101 (she aced it). She has beds positioned in order to keep us from leaving without her knowledge. The beds were placed because she has no hips, so I put them in the areas she frequents. In summer when the sun comes up early she gets off the bed before 4 a.m. to crawl under the bed under my pillow, must have her beauty sleep, also so I can’t leave without her.

My husband took a multi-hour video of her in a crate years ago after we left the house. That was traumatic to watch because she was biting at the wires. We went to lunch and a movie. We never crated her after that. Now, I know she sleeps. She can go anywhere in our home and sleep.

She just wants to be with her pack, which is us. mostly me because I’m the disciplinarian and food wench.

Years ago we went to the ranch and the folks had bought two female baby goats. They were a bit weak and frightened so I asked as a newbie in the family if I could name them. OK. Eleanor (Roosevelt) and Rosa (Parks). I knew they needed strong names to survive.

We let Zoe in and she herded them for perhaps 30 seconds then ran away. Hey, these gals have hooves! She’s always been terrified of the cattle, especially the bulls, and should be. She only herds people.

When we’re with family she protects us and watches for my father-in-law from his special reading spot on the sofa to come home safe on the four-wheeler. She definitely lets us know (Grandma and I are in the kitchen) when anyone arrives.

She’s almost a grandkid where my husband grew up, maybe even a great grand. I’m lucky to be called a daughter and grand-daughter to my husband’s family. All I know is that my M-I-L is disappointed when Zoe doesn’t show up for our now five day Thanksgiving cooking marathon! She licks the floor. Everyone has a job. It’s Texas. Cheers! Dee


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