Under the Wire

I’m a people person. I pride myself on my knowledge and understanding of humans. This includes being sensitive to their needs, understanding their reactions and anticipating their concerns.

How, you might ask, did I get so smart? Is my degree in psychology from Harvard, Stanford or Yale? Just where did I learn so much about the mental condition of the human being? It all came from animals. That’s right, animals. I learned about humans from spending my time with horses, cows and dogs.

I did get a college degree but it pertained to livestock, too. You see, with people, when you talk to them, they tell you how they’d like to be seen, not how they are. Humans are so concerned with projecting an image of what they’d like to be, at times they even confuse themselves about their own wants and needs.

Animals, on the other hand, don’t care about images. They aren’t into keeping up with the Jones, or making you think one thing when another thing is how it really is. Face it, animals are people without hang-ups. Take away the pretentiousness of a guy who’s wife doesn’t understand him, who’s kids think he’s outdated and who’s boss may replace him with a younger man and you’ve got a six year old Hereford bull laying off in the bushes in August. The cows don’t need him, the calves think he’s creepy and slow and don’t even mention the ranch manager who wonders if he can cut the mustard. He is the model for the under-appreciated father/husband/middle manager. He doesn’t need a new red sports car or a fling across the fence. Just leave him alone and he’ll be just fine and ready to do his job. Push him, however, and he’ll fight or tear down a fence.

When I work around the place I’m always accompanied by my Border Collie “Tina.” As I perform my boring chores each morning and night she follows me everywhere carrying a ball in her mouth. As I stop to clean a horse pen or break a bale of hay, she drops the ball, then crouches, watching it with an eerie intensity. As soon as I move on to my next drudging, boring stop, she picks up the ball, charges ahead to my next stop and repeats the same vigil over her ball. She is totally engrossed in watching that ball. I considered this a silly animal thing as I secretly wondered why I had to repeat my same duties day after day, week after week. Who really cared if I did a good job or not? Finally, it came to me. Tina was telling me something with her ball. Her actions which seemed silly to me were extremely important to her. She didn’t care if they were important to anyone else at all.

Thanks to my dog, my daily duties have taken on a new meaning to me. From now on, if you are confused by the actions of a fellow human being, or yourself, for that matter, go watch a cow, horse or dog for awhile. They know the answer.