patience
April 25, 2019
Yesterday I spent over two hours writing about strange animal friendships. I had even figured out how to attach pictures. Right before I clicked on "publish", my computer apparently got hungry and gobbled up the entire page. I tried everything I could think of and did not succeed in recovering the lost blog.
Needless to say I was not pleased. Nor did I have the patience to start over. What I really felt like doing was tossing my laptop out the window!
Normally I am a fairly patient person. Technology is not my finest hour however.
Patience is something everyone could use more of. It seems to me that each generation has had less and less patience. My grandparents always appeared to have patience unending, especially my Grandma Smith, who was in a wheelchair ever since my Dad, her son and only child, was in High school. She
had been a promising soprano and pianist in her teens and was stricken with Rheumatoid Arthritis so young. I never heard her complain about anything! She did her own housework, cooked for her husband and son. She entertained my little sister and I by the hour. Her constant companion was a Boston Terrier
named Teddy. He was a decidedly different personality than Jon Katz's dog, Bud. Quiet, calm, always attentive to Grandma, his main claim to fame was that he loved chewing gum. Teddy never swallowed it.
He chewed it until I guess he either lost interest or the gum lost it's flavor. Then he spit it out. Teddy was a patient dog. He would wait for Grandma to hitch her chair through the door before he passed through. He never pestered for his meal or a treat. He would wait quietly, watching intently, as Grandma
prepared it.
Animals, in general, seem to have built-in patience. Much of it stems from their hunting instinct. The cat
who sits by the mouse hole hardly moving a whisker, will wait for hours.
The Great Blue Heron stands in the water waiting for the fish to swim past. He is so still he might be a statue, and he can hold that position for an unbelievably long time.
My Dad was a dairy farmer. He wanted a cow dog. He read the Farm Journal magazine religiously. He saw an ad for puppies - English Shepherds-"natural heel drivers"- and decided that was what he wanted.
Farmers rarely have money for extras. If they save up for something like a special pup, that is just about the time the manure spreader track breaks. I was grown, living at home, working (and paying board) . So
I ordered the puppy for Dad's birthday. She came from Illinois to our farm in Vermont by train..( Now I know about puppy mills and would never purchase from a mid-west state ) Shep, as Dad named her, was 12 weeks old, already spayed, a beautiful little all black girl with wavy coat, semi-erect ears, and large brown intelligent eyes. From the first night, she slept in her bed in the barn. I took her to an obedience class and when she graduated (second highest score in her large class) I told Dad-now it is up to you to make a cow dog of her. Shep needed no training. True to the ad, she was a heel-driving natural. She was
patient with the more stubborn and rambunctious cows. Dad would just stand at the barn door and tell her to bring up the cows for milking and she would go alone and bring them orderly and slowly home.
Now the point of all this is to tell about patience.
One afternoon, the cows, led by the usual troublemaker, Clarabelle, broke through the fence in a field far
below the barn. Several of us ran down to head those cows back to the barn. Shep was with us of course.
When we came to the hole in the fence Dad told Shep to sit and stay there to keep the cows from running back through, as some might miss the hole in their rush and be injured hitting the remaining fence. The rest of us got the cows up to the road and headed back to the barn. It was milking time. We milked, which took several hours. During that time a thunderstorm had come through with lightening and pouring rain. When Dad went to close up the barn for the night, he missed Shep. Yes- When he walked back to the damaged fence, there was a very wet Shep. She had laid down, but was in the exact spot where Dad had told her to wait. She waited for Dad to praise her, then calmly trotted beside him back to the barn. No excitement, no leaping about! She had just waited patiently for him to come.
Boy, I wish I had a bit of that, don't you?
And by the way--if your computer eats your hard work-BEFORE you touch any other key-hit Control Z.
Your page will mysteriously reappear!
Yesterday I spent over two hours writing about strange animal friendships. I had even figured out how to attach pictures. Right before I clicked on "publish", my computer apparently got hungry and gobbled up the entire page. I tried everything I could think of and did not succeed in recovering the lost blog.
Needless to say I was not pleased. Nor did I have the patience to start over. What I really felt like doing was tossing my laptop out the window!
Normally I am a fairly patient person. Technology is not my finest hour however.
Patience is something everyone could use more of. It seems to me that each generation has had less and less patience. My grandparents always appeared to have patience unending, especially my Grandma Smith, who was in a wheelchair ever since my Dad, her son and only child, was in High school. She
had been a promising soprano and pianist in her teens and was stricken with Rheumatoid Arthritis so young. I never heard her complain about anything! She did her own housework, cooked for her husband and son. She entertained my little sister and I by the hour. Her constant companion was a Boston Terrier
named Teddy. He was a decidedly different personality than Jon Katz's dog, Bud. Quiet, calm, always attentive to Grandma, his main claim to fame was that he loved chewing gum. Teddy never swallowed it.
He chewed it until I guess he either lost interest or the gum lost it's flavor. Then he spit it out. Teddy was a patient dog. He would wait for Grandma to hitch her chair through the door before he passed through. He never pestered for his meal or a treat. He would wait quietly, watching intently, as Grandma
prepared it.
Animals, in general, seem to have built-in patience. Much of it stems from their hunting instinct. The cat
who sits by the mouse hole hardly moving a whisker, will wait for hours.
The Great Blue Heron stands in the water waiting for the fish to swim past. He is so still he might be a statue, and he can hold that position for an unbelievably long time.
My Dad was a dairy farmer. He wanted a cow dog. He read the Farm Journal magazine religiously. He saw an ad for puppies - English Shepherds-"natural heel drivers"- and decided that was what he wanted.
Farmers rarely have money for extras. If they save up for something like a special pup, that is just about the time the manure spreader track breaks. I was grown, living at home, working (and paying board) . So
I ordered the puppy for Dad's birthday. She came from Illinois to our farm in Vermont by train..( Now I know about puppy mills and would never purchase from a mid-west state ) Shep, as Dad named her, was 12 weeks old, already spayed, a beautiful little all black girl with wavy coat, semi-erect ears, and large brown intelligent eyes. From the first night, she slept in her bed in the barn. I took her to an obedience class and when she graduated (second highest score in her large class) I told Dad-now it is up to you to make a cow dog of her. Shep needed no training. True to the ad, she was a heel-driving natural. She was
patient with the more stubborn and rambunctious cows. Dad would just stand at the barn door and tell her to bring up the cows for milking and she would go alone and bring them orderly and slowly home.
Now the point of all this is to tell about patience.
One afternoon, the cows, led by the usual troublemaker, Clarabelle, broke through the fence in a field far
below the barn. Several of us ran down to head those cows back to the barn. Shep was with us of course.
When we came to the hole in the fence Dad told Shep to sit and stay there to keep the cows from running back through, as some might miss the hole in their rush and be injured hitting the remaining fence. The rest of us got the cows up to the road and headed back to the barn. It was milking time. We milked, which took several hours. During that time a thunderstorm had come through with lightening and pouring rain. When Dad went to close up the barn for the night, he missed Shep. Yes- When he walked back to the damaged fence, there was a very wet Shep. She had laid down, but was in the exact spot where Dad had told her to wait. She waited for Dad to praise her, then calmly trotted beside him back to the barn. No excitement, no leaping about! She had just waited patiently for him to come.
Boy, I wish I had a bit of that, don't you?
And by the way--if your computer eats your hard work-BEFORE you touch any other key-hit Control Z.
Your page will mysteriously reappear!
Wonderful story! And thank you for the Control Z tip!
ReplyDeleteThat is a life (or perhaps more specifically, a lap-top saver.
DeleteOur home-bound librarian paid me a visit and I told him about my lost blog. He told me about Control Z.
I also want to thank you for the Control Z tip. Didn't know that but will try it when (not if) whatever I have written disappears. Maybe it will save me from some frustrating moments with my laptop.
ReplyDeleteAs for patience I have seen the same in the three border collies we have had. Many stories about their intelligence, obedience and willingness to do their best.
Yes, Control Z is a life saver. I have been known to cry at my computer when I unwittingly deleted either part or all of something I had been working hard on. My precious grandson, 15, was with me once when that happened. And he calmly walked over and pressed Control Z. I always knew he was a wizard but that day especially. Great to know. And the story of Shep is much appreciated. What a wonderful dog. Thanks for sharing another heartwarming story.
ReplyDelete