Cow Dog

Meet my friend Ranger. He’s an Australian Cattle Dog, so of course he dresses as a cow for Halloween. Every year.

He’s never worked on a ranch, he’s never had an opportunity to herd any cattle, but he did enjoy meeting one once at a recreated historic village, where he and the cow sniffed each other through a fence, nose to nose. I held my breath while watching, afraid he might decide to start a chase, but he was satisfied just to introduce himself and then move on.

When I was a child, my grandparents had an Australian Cattle Dog named Tilda. I would go and stay with them for a few weeks each summer and Tilda would entertain me with tricks and games. The breed is known for being extremely intelligent and loyal to their closest human companions, if not particularly interested in being social with others. I felt I could relate to that, as someone who was never comfortable being social with others either. I knew as an adult I would have my own, but it took quite a while to find my Ranger.

Sure enough, he was very smart and quick to learn anything. He also had some kind of wonderful empathy or kindness that led him to befriend the shy, elderly, anxious, or disabled dogs at the dog park instead of wanting to play with the more energetic and outgoing ones.

Around his first birthday, as he was eating dinner, I heard Ranger making some alarming hacking noises. Thinking he was choking, I hurried over to him in time to watch his whole body freeze up and curl in on itself, his head twisting sideways and then, in slow motion, starting to fall over. I caught him and laid him on the floor gently just as the seizure was beginning to drive a frenzy of paw movements, like he was sleeping and dreaming of chasing something, but without any of the peace of sleep. I’d never seen a seizure before, but had read about them and knew all I could do was keep him from knocking something over or injuring himself while shaking.

After half a minute that seemed like forever, the seizure ended and he emerged from it in a scared and confused state, pressing up against me for comfort. I held him and tried to reassure him while dialing the number for our veterinarian and preparing to rush him over to be examined.

Tests after tests. We saw an image of his brain after a scan, looking like a loaf of bread. No tumors. No cause was ever determined, but the seizures continued every few weeks or once a month. First one medicine, then two, finally three different ones in combination seemed to do the trick of reducing the events to only two or three times a year. They made him fat and lethargic but a careful diet and lots of exercise brought him back to a healthy weight again.

For years, we gave Ranger the best life we could. Going on adventures, giving lots of love. We didn't know how much time we'd have so we made the best of it all. A street cat decided to adopt us one day and they became the best of friends. For a herding dog, he has only rarely tried to chase the cat. The cat learned quickly to tiptoe around him rather than run.

Now, more than a decade after that first seizure, he has been free of them for more than two years - long enough that we have weaned him off one of the drugs and will soon start to wean him off another.

No, he would never be a working stiff, chasing cows for a living. But he is happy, he is healthy, and he is well loved by his human and cat family. I’m so grateful to have him in my life. And I’m grateful for the vet insurance that covered so much of the cost of his care. We go on walks to a little cove where he likes to watch the water and its birds and other creatures. We cuddle and watch TV together. And we make him dress as a cow once a year. It's been a wonderful time.

Happy Hallow-mooooooooooooo!