Instincts | Herding Of A Doodle

Dirt was a pain in the ass as a puppy. He was every bit a typical Blue Heeler. He had every Heeler trait and had it to the fullest extent. Nipping, barking, extreme loyalty, attacking the window when I roll it down, doesn’t like driving on the interstate (which I can’t blame him; i-26 is a disaster), tearing up toilet paper… Come to think of it, he might still have most of those.

The point is, he was a total disaster. Destroyed all my pants. Barked at everything, and no matter what I did, I couldn’t wear him out.

I‘ll never forget the second night after bringing him home. I’d spent all day playing with him and taking pictures, the usual second day of getting a puppy stuff, but when bedtime rolled around, he was anything but tired.

So, around midnight, I hopped out of bed, took him outside, and we walked another half mile until I was pretty convinced the eight-week, stubbed leg Dirt had adequate exercise. The little prince.

Dirt was acting exactly how he was supposed to act. He wasn't trying to drive me crazy. He was simply doing what his little Australian Cattle Dog brain was wired to do. The world was a cow, and he was going to herd it.

One Tuesday afternoon in late July of 2019, Dirt and I were in the middle of a frisbee session in the right field of an old baseball diamond when out of nowhere, a woman driving a golf cart with her phone to her ear whipped into the infield just behind home plate. Leashed to the cart and sitting in the back seats was her obese, overly fluffy, golden designer Doodle dog.

Dirt was fifty yards in front of me, waiting for the frisbee. He glanced over and acknowledged but ignored them, just like he was supposed to.

But just as I tossed the frisbee, the “on the phone while driving a golf cart with a Doodle lady” reached back and unleashed her mop of a dog, who leaped off the back of the cart and into a full sprint directly at Dirt.

Doodle wanted to play. Dirt did not.

Dirt had his back towards the incoming Doodle, focusing on the frisbee. Just about that time, a golden mop ran smack into him. The frisbee dropped to the ground, and the Doodle was taught an important life lesson.

No fighting, no barking, just a cow-dog juking and jiving a Doodle right back onto the very golf cart he arrived on. It was impressive to watch. Even the owner of the Doodle had her jaw dropped in awe, taking in the scene.

It was the first time I witnessed Dirt doing what he was bred to do. He became an artist of sorts. It was a ballet of anticipating the Doodle's next move. Staying low to the ground. His eyes locked on the dog. Any direction the Doodle moved, Dirt would shift to make sure he was always placed directly behind the dog. When the dog would move in any direction other than back towards the golf cart, he would receive a light nip on the back of the legs. The Doodle couldn’t touch him. It reminded me of trying to swat a horse-fly.

I realized something while I watched this brief display unfold; Dirt was having fun.

The owner of the Doodle never said a word. Once Dirt herded him to the golf cart, she grabbed him by the collar, placed him in the back, and sped off. She remained on the phone throughout – all thirty seconds.

The Doodle unwillingly made a few vital errors. His first mistake was thinking it’s okay to bum-rush another dog, especially a dog just minding his own business. His second mistake was thinking he would be greeted with excitement – a new friend. His third mistake was assuming he could handle business if he was met with a less-than-stellar review.

However, Doodle's biggest mistake was at no fault of his own. His owner had failed to communicate how some dogs don’t want to be friends. And that’s ok.

While it seems a Doodle's job is to be friends with anything and everything, Dirt's job is to move 2500lb steers wherever they need moving.

Dirt, like every other breed of dog (yes, even Doodles), can’t deny who they are. Not only can they not deny who they are, but they show us that it’s ok to be excited about who we are. And the only people or dogs we need to like us are ourselves. Dirt didn’t need me to tell him how to handle a bum-rushing Doodle. He let his instincts do that.

Instincts. Something we all need to listen to, yet something we so often struggle to find. We can get so stuck moving on to the next thing, that we forget to simply be human. And not just human, the “being” part of human. The part only you can be.

Sometimes, we have to ask ourselves, is this really who I am? Does this really make me happy? Do I really care about the things I am working so hard to achieve? Or the people I’m trying to please.

Dirt wasn’t trying to be friends with the Doodle, and the Doodle needed to learn not everybody wants to be friends.

Although it’s hard to admit, Dirt being a Heeler has never really been an issue. It’s the issues Dirt forced me to face that I’d left unhealed. Which meant, it was time to listen to my instincts. And lucky for me, anytime I forget, I have a ready-to-work cow-dog nipping at my heals.

Stay Dirty!

Oh, I almost forgot! There is a Blue Heeler on the side of i-26 with a sign that says, “Will herd for food,” if anybody's going that way. Cheers!