Dog, dog, dog, dog, dog. This vegetable farmer was amused to realize that the last five out of six sustainable farming columns have been about a certain farm puppy. Not only that, when we had our regular summer visitors, we talked about the farm less than the dog: the dog books we read, the dog documentaries we watch, the dog training classes we attend.
But really, this dog is all about vegetables and farming.
Green beans: the dog loves ‘em. Brussels sprouts: the dog loves ‘em. Carrots, potatoes, tomatoes: loves ‘em.
Kale, winter squash, beets, zucchini. Yes, yes, yes. Also berries, apples, and cider. (Not to mention corn, popcorn, dog food, dog treats, peanut butter, and cheese, none of which we grow.)
The farm pooch also loves to dig holes, especially nearby a farmer digging carrots, or less pleasingly, in a garden pathway, where a farmer has to look sharp or fall in a heap.
The dog loves row cover, too, which the farmers use to protect crops from bugs. However, the farmers like their row cover without holes. The dog has his own designated piece of old holey row cover, which he periodically improves with more holes.
Plus the dog loves grain bags nearly as much as the farm draft horses do, except they like what’s inside and he likes what’s outside. What’s more fun than a noisy flappy empty feed bag to thrash about?
He does not, however, love the draft horses. They’re mighty big, and sometimes he stands three feet in front of one and barks, until a) a farmer gets annoyed and calls the dog away or b) the horse gets annoyed and walks toward the dog. Then the dog runs away, wisely.
The dog does love the farm cat, who does not return the favor, and no wonder, as the dog bounces around the cat, inviting her to play, and occasionally chases her, if a farmer is not quick enough to redirect him.
The pooch also loves the farmers’ market, and waits in the truck for an hour on market mornings, eager to go. (However, as the season went on, he became altogether too eager at the market, what with all the other exciting dogs and people. Bark, bark, bark, he said. Bounce, bounce, bounce. Leap, leap, leap. Alas, he lost his market privileges.
Happily, there was only one market day left, and there is only so much dog sadness I can stand: I took him on an alternate farm excursion to Stonewall Farm, where he invited the goats to play. At least he didn’t bark at them.)
This dog also loves the CSA members who come to our farm, and mostly he behaves when they come. Recently, though, as a CSA member came up the drive, the dog, after a nice initial greeting, jumped on her.
“Off!” I said firmly to the dog, and “Oh, I’m very sorry!” to our CSA member.
“Don’t worry,” she answered, “I love dogs,” which was lucky for us. I hastened to tell her that our pooch hardly ever jumps, and had just passed his canine good citizen test at our Monadnock Humane Society class.
“Well, that’s wonderful,” she answered. “What did he have to do, vote?”
I laughed, thinking: Hmm . . . if a dog could vote, we might have kindness, understanding, good food, good friends, a comfortable bed, a little freedom to run in the fields . . .
Then I explained the ten canine good citizen tasks. On the test, the pooch did beautifully on nine of the tasks. He did need a second chance on the tenth, which was listening to his person instead of leaping delightedly at a new dog.
“Well, I think he’s just perfect,” said our CSA member, scratching the farm pooch's ears.
“Thanks,” I answered. “We go to training classes so he doesn’t jump on CSA members.” Then we both laughed, as the pooch wagged his tail innocently.
Originally published in the Monadock Shopper News, Nov 13-19, 2024