The Neighbors -- Part Deux

I wanted a dog that would stay with the sheep all day. But after we brought our Australian Shepherd home, I read on the web that they don't stay with the sheep, they stay with the shepherd.

So that means that Attila wants to go wherever I go. When I'm in the house, he waits expectantly outside our door. He doesn't have much interest in the sheep, although a few days ago I did get him to "turn them" for me which was very exciting to watch.

Last night, about 8pm, I heard him barking wildly. When I came out to investigate he was running towards the sheep pasture.

I couldn't see anything, and neither could he, but he heard voices over there. We live in a narrow valley and voices echo back and forth so I was quite surprised that he knew that people were in the sheep pasture, and not at the house across the road.


Two young boys, around the age of ten, were climbing up a large branch that had broken off of a large, dead walnut tree. The sheep were all bunched up and looking at them. I asked the boys what they were doing there, and then told them that it was dangerous to play on the broken branches. I had worried a couple of days previously that the branch might fall on one of the sheep and kill them.

I also told them that the dog was mechant, mean. And as if on cue, Attila started barking and growling at them. I called him back.

The tall boy told me he was sorry to have disturbed me, and then the two of them took off running through the walnut grove and crossed over a dry diversionary canal, heading back to the house of THE NEW NEIGHBORS who aren't British.

Attila and I walked back to the house and I was happy to find out that he did keep track of what was going on with the sheep.

But when I had some time to reflect, I thought that perhaps I had made a mistake in claiming that Attila was mechant, when in fact he's very gentil, nice. I worried that the kids would tell their father, the one who's covered in tatoos, and he might think that he needed to dispose of this menace.

A lot of dogs mysteriously die around here after consuming rat poison . . . which is probably provided to them via a steak.