I've mentioned, a time or two that I live in a small valley in the middle of nowhere. We’re talking country, with the nearest neighbor a little over a mile away and the next house after that is two or three miles further down. As the crow flies, I also have two neighbors on the other side of me and about two miles from me across a stand of trees and a huge hundred-acre pasture. Put a dot on the map locating my house and draw a pie of lines out three miles from my dot, in any direction and most of those sectors are empty. In other words, no taxies, public transport, malls, or street lights.
We do have more animals than people out here.
I like it that way.
Given how few neighbors I have, it’s always amazing to me how many stray critters end up in my yard. We’re talking cats, cattle, a stray horse or two, and dogs. In fact, most of my ‘neighbors’ now know if your dog is missing it’s probably gone to Sia’s. My number is now well distributed through out the area. I usually will get a phone call several times a month, “Hey, Sia, is____insert name, over at your house?” He/she did a Houdini and we figured they had gone to Sia.
I know the name of most of the animals better than I know their people's names.
One of the neighbors I mentioned that live across the pasture had a bulldog that liked visiting, They used to live a bit closer to me—about a half mile away in a mobile home while waiting for their house to be built. Bruiser found his way to my house several times a week. We thought it would end once they moved to the new house. Nope, my Danes would go off and I’d walk outside to see what the racket was. The trees were decorated with various furry cats looking down and there would be Bruiser, tongue lolling, looking highly satisfied with himself, laying in the grass or on the patio.
We have another neighbor who lives about three or so miles away. They have a Basset hound (Waylon), another mutt type (George), a brindle Pit (Ruatha), and one of the most beautiful American Pit Bull Terrier I've ever seen. His name is Rocky. I love Rocky! White with black patches. Dignified and sweet as can be. I know their names because periodically they get out of their kennels and wander and Waylon loves visiting. It’s Waylon’s fault that the others have found their way here. Took me awhile to figure out where Waylon lived. Yep, I’m now on speed dial with that family, too. The family knows that if any of their dogs get loose and are missing, chances are they've gone to Sia’s.
Then they got their kennels fixed. It’s been a while since Waylon has visited. Rocky knows his way to my house. Today he brought another beauty with him, Gypsy. She’s a Blue with white markings and just about a year old. Sweet as can be. Just came on up and laid at my feet while I was reading out on the patio. Then decided I was a cool lady and climbed up on the patio couch and laid her head on my lap while keeping a wary eye on my cats. The cats are old hands at this visiting dog routine. They’re cautious but they don’t decorate the trees like they used to.
Oh, what a sweetheart she is. Man, I wanted to keep her so badly. She’d be the perfect inside outside dog and companion. But, it wasn't to be. I guess I'll have to wait until she has pups.
There was no answer at her house but a few hours later the big king crew pick-up truck slowly drove by my house. One of the girls was hanging out the window looking. I was in the back yard with Gypsy, watering my horses. I couldn't get out front quick enough to flag them. I knew they’d be back so Gypsy and me waited in the front yard and sure enough, twenty minutes later I heard them coming and waved them down. They were thrilled to see Gypsy.
Kid told me that his mother said 'she’s probably gone to Sia’s'.