Wolfie

My dog died today.  He was killed by coyotes.  His name was Wolfie.

I got Wolfie as a puppy in 2006.  He was my 4-H project and the first dog that was really my own.  We've had plenty of farm dogs, but Wolfie was mine.  He wasn't the best behaved dog and he liked to chase the cows when they didn't need to be chased.  Wolfie was scared of most things smaller than himself (I had to save him from an angry mouse this summer), but he would willingly take on any dog bigger than himself, so I had to watch him around other dogs.  

In spite of all of his faults, Wolfie could be pretty lovable.  He always came and sat in front of me when I called him and would sit with his head cocked to one side, giving me the cute puppy look until I petted him.  And he loved to play fetch.  Whether he was chasing a soccer ball or a tennis ball, he was always so enthusiastic about chasing whatever I threw for him.  Often times Wolfie would run so fast that he would be unable to stop at the ball and would skid on the grass or tumble head over heels before scrambling to his feet and going back to get the ball.

I lost Wolfie once.  We went away on vacation and left him at my uncle's farm.  The day we came home, he ran away, just hours before we went to pick him up.  I was crushed.  We drove all over the neighbourhood calling him and asking neighbours if they'd seen him.  When we finally got home, my uncle drove onto the yard with Wolfie in his truck.  He had wandered back to my uncle's farm after going who-knows-where on his adventure.  He never ran away again.

Wolfie, being a purebred blue heeler, was pretty small.  He didn't even come up to my knees.  Even so, my mom always said that if he wasn't our dog, she would be afraid to get out of the car when he was on the deck.  He was one powerful looking dog, but he always liked people.

This morning I went out to help my dad with chores.  When I got to the granary, my dad told me that Wolfie wasn't around.  Dad's dog, Bandit, was running around as always, but Wolfie wasn't around.  Since Wolfie was getting old, I figured he was sleeping in the doghouse or something.  But, when we fed the dogs later, he still didn't come.  When we headed out to feed hay, Bandit didn't want to come with us and he was acting skittish.  As we drove out to the pasture, we saw some magpies in the corral, pecking at something.  It was Wolfie.  The dogs have been chasing coyotes off the yard for the last several nights.  This night, the coyotes won.

There have been few times when I was mad enough to want to swear, but this was one of them.  I wanted to call those coyotes all manner of rude names, but I couldn't.  Coyotes have to eat, too, and they were just acting on instinct.  I can't really blame them for that.

One day I'll get a new dog, a puppy, when it's not winter out.  Then he can live outside and I'll train him as I did Wolfie.  For now, Bandit is on his own and will be getting plenty of attention.

Wolfie meeting Dad's new puppy, Bandit, this summer.