Dear friends,
As I look out the window at the mountains, I see the horses and goats grazing in the golden light. It all feels so timeless, as if each day rolls gently into the next without change. But the familiar has a way of shifting, sometimes you look forward to it, and sometimes you don’t.
Our old livestock guardian dog, Bear, began telling us in quiet ways that his time was nearing. He slowed down. Took more naps. He gently said with his eyes and tired breathing, my time here is drawing to a close.
Bear was the alpha. Top dog. He commanded respect, not just with his sheer size, but with his calm presence and quick intelligence. He watched over his angora goats with unshakable devotion, an inherent devotion that came from the generations before him.
In his final days, Bear continued to follow the herd, never surrendering his post. One afternoon, Rachel watched him quietly turn away from the goats and slowly make his way back toward the barn. Almost there, he lay down in the grass, his great head lowering with the weight of many years. He turned to look back one last time.
We brought a sled to him. He didn’t resist. With grateful eyes, he let us lift him gently and carry him to a favorite corner of the barn. A few hours later, surrounded by his people, his goats, and the other guardian dogs, Bear took his final breaths.
I have cried. I have mourned. And I sure loved him. Bear, you were the best.
The rhythm of the ranch continues. Clouds drift across the sky. Meadowlarks call from the fence posts. The goats and horses graze. Chickens cluck softly as they lay their eggs. The barn cats are on the hunt. And, the other livestock guardian dogs carry on Bear’s legacy - watchful, loyal, and brave.