Baymule
Herd Master
It's been a long relationship with a smack dab crazy dog. Anybody that reads my posts knows about Paris, a Great Pyrenees. Paris was a free throw away dog, a chicken killer. While I don't recommend taking on a problem dog as your very first LGD, it worked out, finally, for us. Her story begins here.
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In September 2014, we bought a doublewide mobile home on 8 acres, we moved on February 14, 2015, our 19th anniversary. Paris's world turned upside down. From her safe, small city backyard, she went to another backyard (there was no fence so we had to put up a backyard fence for her) but out in the country with brand new threats, those terrible DEER that walked right up to her fence and drove her insane. As we put up more fence, then we got SHEEP! Paris was convinced that sheep must be a cross between the devil and a tiger and I must be protected from sheep monsters and she attacked them. Sigh....... Here we go again.....Training her to sheep took awhile, I had to train her, HER way, so that she understood.
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Paris's story ended yesterday. She taught me more than I ever taught her. I will always love her and remember her. Paris had been in decline, slowly leaving a little each day. My husband, BJ died on September 20 and she missed him terribly, Paris loved BJ above all else. She loved me, but absolutely adored her BJ. All of a sudden, he was gone and she didn't understand why. BJ didn't feed her every day anymore, he didn't love her, ruffle up her fur and talk baby talk to her any more, she had to settle for me. She still had a shine to her eyes, but the light was fading. She got down in her back legs and could barely get up. She no longer ran to the gate to bark at trucks that went by, she stationed herself midway up the driveway, under an oak tree, where The Queen could preside over her queendom and bark from there. At night she moved under the porch. My girl was leaving me. Some nights, she refused her food. I made that call to the vet that we all dread, but know that it is for the best. They were booked up and set a time and day that just happened to be the same day that my husband, the love of my life, died 1 month ago. Hard on me, but how appropriate for both of them.
I put Paris in the back seat of the truck on some towels. She laid out and didn't even move much. She was tired. At the vet's I called and told them we were there, I was not going to put her through more trauma to take her in. The vet came out with his assistant, I sat in the front, where I could reach between the seats and stroke her as she went to sleep. The vet checked for a heartbeat, there was none. Paris didn't hurt anymore.
It has been a wild ride on the crazy train. From a scared cowering 1 year old, to The Queen of the World, Paris has been an adventure all in herself. It took 2 years to teach her not to attack the chickens. In our small backyard in town, Paris ruled. She protected the chickens from cats, raccoons, possums and hawks. Oh, I forgot motorcycles, trucks, especially garbage trucks, neighbors who dared walk in their own yards, falling acorns, people who walked down the street, anything and everything. Paris was fierce.
At age 88, my Mom had a stroke and we moved her in with us. She liked to go out on the back deck and pet Paris. Paris got so excited to see Mom, that she would stand on her hind legs, waving her front paws, right in front of Mom. One flick of the paw would have sent that tiny woman crashing down, but Paris never touched her. It was a special delight for both of them.
Paris really bloomed and came into her own when we moved to 8 acres in Lindale. That's when we discovered our screwy dog killed snakes. She hated snakes and watching her doing a deadly dance with a snake was awe inspiring. Deadly for the snake, not her. We usually killed it and then let her have it to kill over and over, but sometimes she found it first and we would find the pieces.
After Paris got the idea that sheep were not going to rip me to shreds, Paris became their protector and guard. She respected the ewes while giving birth, stayed close, but gave them space. She came and got me to "show" me where a ewe had newborns, looking back to make sure I was following. Paris fulfilled her destiny, what her breed had done for a thousand years and she took pride in a job well done.
I tried to move Paris to pastures, but she wouldn't have it. 30 minutes and she was climbing the gate or digging out to go back to her beloved back yard. Just. Not. Happening. The Queen has spoken. So we ran a fence from the back yard to the back of the sheep barn. We could open up all the gates and Paris could run to the front fence and chase trucks from the inside of the fence. As usual, it was Paris's way or no way.
Early summer this year, we took the weaned lambs that Paris was guarding, to auction. The Cornish Cross meat chickens were ready and we slaughtered them. I put a couple of ram lambs I held back in "her" side pasture and back yard, but she decided she was done. She dug out and came to the front yard. I'm kinda dumb sometimes, and I put her back, she dug out again and came to the front yard. Several times of this and I finally began to get a glimmer. Paris was telling me that she was retired. BJ and I laughed about it. As usual, it was her way. Paris became a front yard, under the porch in the cool dirt, dog. She enjoyed her retirement, ruling over her universe. I'm going to miss her.
I took these pictures 8 years ago of BJ and Paris. They are my favorites. The adoring look between these two is plain and easy to see. Every dog should be so loved and every man should be so fortunate to have loved a dog like Paris.
My Pyrenees Doesn't Guard Sheep, Goats or Chase Bears Hawk! post #26
Paris is our girl's name. She was given to us as a 10 month old because she was killing chickens. Ya'll know the story.......a youngster turned loose on 3 acres full of chickens with no supervision. Her owners would find dead chickens with no teeth marks, but wet (slobbered) and dead. So she was...
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Paris is Calling Me With Her Eyes!
Every evening, Paris parks herself in front of the patio glass doors, staring intently through them straight at me, sitting in my recliner. This is after I feed her. She won't eat until I go outside and praise her. Actually, I gush praise like a broken water main. I tell her, You are so smart...
www.backyardherds.com
In September 2014, we bought a doublewide mobile home on 8 acres, we moved on February 14, 2015, our 19th anniversary. Paris's world turned upside down. From her safe, small city backyard, she went to another backyard (there was no fence so we had to put up a backyard fence for her) but out in the country with brand new threats, those terrible DEER that walked right up to her fence and drove her insane. As we put up more fence, then we got SHEEP! Paris was convinced that sheep must be a cross between the devil and a tiger and I must be protected from sheep monsters and she attacked them. Sigh....... Here we go again.....Training her to sheep took awhile, I had to train her, HER way, so that she understood.
Paris Has Begun Lamb Training
We built a small pen in the backyard and weaned the lambs 3 days ago. We put the lambs in Paris territory. For those who don't know Paris, her post is below. http://www.backyardherds.com/threads/my-pyrenees-doesnt-guard-sheep-goats-or-chase-bears-hawk-post-26.23771/ We no longer live in town...
www.backyardherds.com
Paris's story ended yesterday. She taught me more than I ever taught her. I will always love her and remember her. Paris had been in decline, slowly leaving a little each day. My husband, BJ died on September 20 and she missed him terribly, Paris loved BJ above all else. She loved me, but absolutely adored her BJ. All of a sudden, he was gone and she didn't understand why. BJ didn't feed her every day anymore, he didn't love her, ruffle up her fur and talk baby talk to her any more, she had to settle for me. She still had a shine to her eyes, but the light was fading. She got down in her back legs and could barely get up. She no longer ran to the gate to bark at trucks that went by, she stationed herself midway up the driveway, under an oak tree, where The Queen could preside over her queendom and bark from there. At night she moved under the porch. My girl was leaving me. Some nights, she refused her food. I made that call to the vet that we all dread, but know that it is for the best. They were booked up and set a time and day that just happened to be the same day that my husband, the love of my life, died 1 month ago. Hard on me, but how appropriate for both of them.
I put Paris in the back seat of the truck on some towels. She laid out and didn't even move much. She was tired. At the vet's I called and told them we were there, I was not going to put her through more trauma to take her in. The vet came out with his assistant, I sat in the front, where I could reach between the seats and stroke her as she went to sleep. The vet checked for a heartbeat, there was none. Paris didn't hurt anymore.
It has been a wild ride on the crazy train. From a scared cowering 1 year old, to The Queen of the World, Paris has been an adventure all in herself. It took 2 years to teach her not to attack the chickens. In our small backyard in town, Paris ruled. She protected the chickens from cats, raccoons, possums and hawks. Oh, I forgot motorcycles, trucks, especially garbage trucks, neighbors who dared walk in their own yards, falling acorns, people who walked down the street, anything and everything. Paris was fierce.
At age 88, my Mom had a stroke and we moved her in with us. She liked to go out on the back deck and pet Paris. Paris got so excited to see Mom, that she would stand on her hind legs, waving her front paws, right in front of Mom. One flick of the paw would have sent that tiny woman crashing down, but Paris never touched her. It was a special delight for both of them.
Paris really bloomed and came into her own when we moved to 8 acres in Lindale. That's when we discovered our screwy dog killed snakes. She hated snakes and watching her doing a deadly dance with a snake was awe inspiring. Deadly for the snake, not her. We usually killed it and then let her have it to kill over and over, but sometimes she found it first and we would find the pieces.
After Paris got the idea that sheep were not going to rip me to shreds, Paris became their protector and guard. She respected the ewes while giving birth, stayed close, but gave them space. She came and got me to "show" me where a ewe had newborns, looking back to make sure I was following. Paris fulfilled her destiny, what her breed had done for a thousand years and she took pride in a job well done.
I tried to move Paris to pastures, but she wouldn't have it. 30 minutes and she was climbing the gate or digging out to go back to her beloved back yard. Just. Not. Happening. The Queen has spoken. So we ran a fence from the back yard to the back of the sheep barn. We could open up all the gates and Paris could run to the front fence and chase trucks from the inside of the fence. As usual, it was Paris's way or no way.
Early summer this year, we took the weaned lambs that Paris was guarding, to auction. The Cornish Cross meat chickens were ready and we slaughtered them. I put a couple of ram lambs I held back in "her" side pasture and back yard, but she decided she was done. She dug out and came to the front yard. I'm kinda dumb sometimes, and I put her back, she dug out again and came to the front yard. Several times of this and I finally began to get a glimmer. Paris was telling me that she was retired. BJ and I laughed about it. As usual, it was her way. Paris became a front yard, under the porch in the cool dirt, dog. She enjoyed her retirement, ruling over her universe. I'm going to miss her.
I took these pictures 8 years ago of BJ and Paris. They are my favorites. The adoring look between these two is plain and easy to see. Every dog should be so loved and every man should be so fortunate to have loved a dog like Paris.
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Just "her way"!
