Recently retired from the California Department of Education, Andrew Laufer is writing a book about his life including periods as a butcher's helper, food service worker, construction laborer, animal research assistant, seasonal fire fighter, and janitor. In his youth, he hitch-hiked up and down the coast and out to Colorado numerous times providing context for hundreds of short stories.
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Queensland Heeler:
No match for a clever 4-year-old. Age 42 to 54
Queensland Heeler:
No match for a clever 4-year-old. Age 42 to 54
Blue was a good dog; a Queensland Heeler bred for herding livestock. The day after I got him, I took him for a walk down our country road. When my neighbor showed up on the other side of the fence, he startled Blue so badly he ran all the way home, about ten acres away, without stopping or slowing a bit. From that point on, Blue never left the yard.
He was the first dog my kids remember and a large part of their lives. As he got older, he exhibited normal behavior for that breed and subtly herded my kids around. That all changed when Amanda, 4 years-old at the time, outsmarted him.
She found a long stiff stick and realized that he shied away a bit when she tapped him with it. It didn’t take her long to figure out that she could easily control the dog with the stick, and she looked extremely satisfied when she started “herding” him. The tables had turned and while she was reveling in her success, I was beaming with pride.
Blue was a great watch dog. Strangers would not come into the yard unless we escorted them. He kept other animals out too. More than once he woke us fighting raccoons in the garage. We left the garage door open for him at night and a raccoon sometimes wandered in. They were usually quick enough to escape up a nearby tree but once-in-a-while Blue cornered one. It was always scary intervening in those fights to pull him, snarling and slobbering, into the house so the raccoon could escape.
He loved chasing cats but always let them go unharmed when they hunkered down for battle. At that point, the fun of the chase was over, and he’d walk away. I suppose his love for our house cat tempered his killer instinct. They were quite the odd couple. The cat would purr and rub up against him and through his legs to his great pleasure.
He was vicious with possums. I watched him pull one off a fencepost by leaping up and grabbing its tail. More than once, I found possum pups in the yard that had fallen prey to his instincts.
Watching him tarry with a skunk was amusing. It was dusk when the skunk came plodding into the yard. With lots of high energy barking and movement Blue had the skunk under his control in a few seconds. I thought he’d get nailed from a direct hit but to my astonishment, he stayed nose to nose with it. When the skunk turned to spray him, he would race around to get nose to nose with it again. He never got sprayed directly but still smelled because he kept running through the grass that had been errantly sprayed.
He had a great life running free and ruling over the 5 acres we live on. He passed when he was 12-years old. His ghost hung around the house for quite a while after he died. When we finally got our Beagles, his ghost left us for good.
Happy travels Blue.
~ Andy Laufer
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