A day in the life of Cowboy, suburban people herder and full-time joy dispenser.
Herding Hearts Daily
Cowboy was on a roll at the park the other day, charming people. What stood out most to me, however, were the people that he attracted. All the best people.
First, an elderly gentleman with a cane knelt to pet him. It took effort for the guy to stand back up, but he managed with grace and a groan. Smiling, he told me he once had a corgi but pronounced “cor-gee.”
Then he launched into a story about the ducks he used to raise. Mallards. He told me how he hatched them from eggs, how they imprinted on him, and how a few of his white ducks escaped and ended up frolicking in Paint Creek with the wild ones. Gasp!
“I saw them and called them, cheep, cheep, just like I did when they hatched. And they came,” he said. But he let them enjoy their walk on the wild side.
I mentioned that my dog loves the park for all the attention he gets.
“That’s why I come, too,” he said. He told me he was eighty and feeling it. “That’s life. Too bad we can’t live forever. And our dogs, too.”
As we chatted, I noticed he greeted every passerby with a friendly “Hello, how are you?” like someone who finds joy in connection. As we said goodbye, he mentioned his children were about my age.
“Well, I’m 70,” I said. “So, you must’ve had them when you were ten?” We laughed like old friends. I hope to see him again.
Short legs, deep thinker
One of a group of women walking together around the lake stopped me to ask, “What are those dogs bred for?” She pointed at Cowboy.
“Corgis? They’re herding dogs,” I said. “They herd cattle and sheep.”
“What? With those short legs!” she said, baffled.
I smiled. “Well, when the cow kicks, the hooves go right over the dog. Corgis are fast, low to the ground, and know well enough to get out of the way.”
One woman commented on his docked tail. “Yeah, it doesn’t really make sense now,” I said, “but a tail might have been a liability for a low herding dog like this.”
All three women nodded, looking at him like he was a miracle.
Everyone’s Best Friend
Up on the hill, we encountered two mothers with a group of children. The kids politely asked if they could pet him.
I said, “Are you kidding? That’s what he lives for.”
They were all over Cowboy. He sat at their feet and enjoyed it.
An older girl said she really wanted a corgi. Her mother nodded. “Be careful what you wish for,” I told them. “They’re smart. And they’ll outsmart you if you’re not careful.”
Cowboy the Icebreaker
A few minutes later, a man pushing a boy on a tricycle slowed down, nodded at Cowboy, and asked, “Is that a corky?”
Close enough. Corgee, corky, corgilicious, hey dog, he’ll answer to anything.
Cowboy also met a young boy who asked to pet him. Cowboy and I demonstrated an easy twirl trick that the boy could teach his own dog, which he told me all about–a poodle-German Shepard mix named Rocket. The boy thought the twirl was really cool and said he couldn’t wait to teach it to Rocket.
We then walked past a group of teen girls waiting to play tennis. I heard them “ooh” and “ah” as we passed. Apparently, so did Cowboy. He bee-lined right back to them and then promptly lay at their feet so they could pet him. It was embarrassing. You’d think he was love-starved or something.
But that’s my dog, spreading joy, tricks, and fluff, one parkgoer at a time.
It’s not just about him, though. It’s also about the lovely people we meet. The ones who stop. Who share their dog stories. Who laugh with strangers. Who cheep at ducks in a creek and pet a furball as if it makes their day.
Honestly, the best people are in the park.
Linda K. Sienkiewicz is a wrangler of words and big messy feelings in fiction and poetry.
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