Dairy Farm Adventures: The story of Blackie

Every farm needs a good dog. Four years ago, my family adopted a one-year-old male black lab retriever mutt from the Houlton Humane Society. Our hearts melted when we saw his gentle brown eyes and friendly, black puppy face. When we knelt down to pet him, his whole body wriggled with excitement as he slobbered our faces with kisses. Having two young children, I was most concerned with how he would behave with small fingers petting, poking and pulling him. He welcomed the attention and begged for more by rooting their small hands with his wet nose. We followed our hearts and adopted him before anyone else could whisk him away. Since he was completely black, and I like to keep things simple, I named him “Blackie.”
    The first day we brought him home, he rode in the front seat of the pick-up. As we drove up the driveway, he shook with fear and whimpered when he saw the cows for the first time. I wondered how he would adjust to the cows and our horse. At first, he didn’t wander far from the house or out of my sight. Then one day, I asked Matthew, “Have you seen Blackie?”
“No, I haven’t,” he replied.
Worried for his safety, the first place I looked was in the pasture. Sure enough, Blackie was in the middle of the field surrounded by a small herd of curious cows. As I watched, he tentatively crept forward, reaching his nose toward a cow’s face. A giant Holstein lowered her head to investigate the small four-legged creature who had ventured into her space. I fought the urge to run to his rescue, knowing this would have to be a teachable moment in order for canine and bovine to coexist on our farm. The dog and cow sniffed noses. Blackie stood still as stone as a long sand-paper tongue licked his face. When the cows started closing in on him, he raced back to the house where I stood waiting for him. He mingled with the cows regularly until our herd tripled in size. He sensed the danger factor had magnified and rarely ventured into the pasture to visit his bovine friends. To this day, he watches them from a safe distance and is content to frolic with the calves who are just the right size for him.
Blackie settled into the rhythm of farm life and before long he befriended the horse we owned at the time named “Challie.” One day while mowing the lawn, I looked toward the pasture and saw Blackie crawling on his tummy toward the horse. I had seen Challie trample my former dear dog, Addie, and thought for sure Blackie would be driven out of the field in a flurry of hooves and yips. He laid down a few horse lengths from Challie and waited. Nibble by nibble, step by step, the horse moved closer to him. When they were a foot apart, a black nose reached out to a brown muzzle. Knowing it was too late to intervene, I held my breath and waited for this tender moment to explode. Instead, Blackie rolled over on his back exposing his soft belly in complete submission. Challie could have put an end to him in a second, but miraculously he nuzzled the dog’s stomach. I couldn’t believe my eyes, the horse was giving the dog a belly rub! I never fully trusted this relationship, but stopping it would have been like squelching the fiery romance of Romeo and Juliet. I left them alone, and thankfully nothing horrific happened.
Blackie has been a great running, hiking and snowshoeing companion for me. Most every morning unless it’s stifling hot, or bitter cold, he and I will greet the day together by going on a jaunt on the trails we’ve beaten down on Westford Hill. He is always on time and never complains about inclement weather. We have traveled many miles together and have seen a variety of wildlife including fox, deer, wild turkeys, ground hogs, partridge, owls, porcupines, moose, coyote and alas … skunks. He keeps me company when I venture to the horse barn on dark winter nights, bounding out the door and diving into the snow, coming up white-faced and smiling as if to say, “This is fun!”
Blackie’s one mischievous habit may be a blessing in disguise. If I am mowing the lawn, or I’m at the horse barn, Blackie will sneak into the woods and cross a field to visit our neighbors, Lance and Nancy and their dog, “Misty.” One minute he’s lounging on the lawn, and the next minute he’s disappeared like Houdini. He will stay in their yard until I fetch him, or Nancy brings him home. For a long time, I was offended by his breech of loyalty. He has a family who adores him, a dependable routine, and plenty of exercise … what more could a dog want? I’m beginning to understand Blackie’s social nature spurs him to befriend animals and humans. Even his most annoying habit has managed to connect us to our wonderful neighbors who have been patient and tolerant of their uninvited guest.
What I love most about Blackie is how docile he has been with my three children, ages two, five, and seven. My two-year-old son, Wyatt, either hugs him tightly or tries to pry his mouth open to take a closer look at his teeth. Blackie stands patiently while I redirect my son’s attention, reminding him to be gentle with the dog. Last winter, I wanted to take pictures of the children after we had built and decorated a comical snowman. Of course, Blackie wanted to be a part of the action too. While the dog rested in the snow, Wyatt waddled over and laid on top of the dog, wrapping his little arms around his neck. For five minutes, Blackie didn’t budge while I took photos. To have a dog who is kindhearted toward our children and the farm animals and wants to tag along with me is a priceless gift.
Editor’s Note: Lee-Rae Jordan-Oliver and her husband Matt are former educators who own a dairy farm in Hodgdon. Her column, discussing life on a farm today, will appear on an ongoing basis in The Houlton Pioneer Times.