Relative Something

I spotted a recent invitation to connect with an old acquaintance on the career oriented networking site, Linked In, and in a moment of spontaneous whimsy, decided to update my profile to reflect my recent employment change to full-time ranch manager. Who knows? One of my connections there might someday be seeking advice about manure management or moving from suburbia to the agricultural countryside.

As manager, I have decided I should begin establishing and documenting our ranch policies. First off, all visitors arriving from West African countries, Spain, or Dallas, TX, will need to have their temperature measured before entering the property. Also, as a proactive measure, anyone even thinking of visiting the countries of West Africa will be checked for a fever.

Forgive me if that seems insensitive, but my coping method for dangerous or intense situations often involves attempts at humor. That runs the risk of offending if someone reading happens to be directly affected or involved. No offense intended.

Maybe that is why I find myself making so many wisecracks about manure. You see, the title of “Ranch Manager” is just a nice way of labeling the job of manure collector. Sure, I also take care of the dog and cat, manage the maintenance of our fleet of machines, tend to the grounds keeping and forest management, and am the general contractor for all improvement projects, but those activities all happen while I am at the same time scooping up manure.

Yesterday, true to my word, I kept Delilah confined to a leash the entire time I was working on projects. She got one break for exercise when I unleashed her to chase flying discs. When I was working, I always knew where she was. I would describe her reaction to being leashed as, contrite.

I’m pretty confident she understands what is going on. Countless times she has demonstrated a memory for something from a day before. If she was remembering her little escapades from Tuesday, and wanting to return to those adventures, being confined to the distance of her leash was a clear manifestation of having her freedom revoked.

I think both she and I are looking forward to the day we get back to practicing her appropriate measure of free run.

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