From the Styx by Peggy Tibbetts

During the summer I read almost all of Jon Katz’s dog books. He has Labs and Border Collies. One crazy Border Collie in particular, Orson changed his life forever. Even though Border Collies are not the same as Akbash, I definitely related to his struggles with Orson because they so closely resembled our struggles with Venus.

Katz even took Orson to a sort of sheepherding school where they learned with actual sheep how to herd them. Eventually Katz bought a farm and his own herd of sheep and well, you’ll have to read his books to find out what happened.

Several months ago an acquaintance, who knows a thing or two about dogs and upon hearing about Venus’s mental condition, suggested that I should locate a sheep rancher who would let me and Venus spend some time with a herd of sheep. I thought that sounded like a risky proposition. What rancher in his right mind would let an unstable, unpredictable Akbash near his sheep? And, since we don’t have any sheepherding schools around here, I decided that herding sheep was not necessarily the key to her sanity. Nor did it turn out to be the key to Orson’s sanity as I learned from Katz’s book, A Good Dog: The Story of Orson. Besides, Venus has her own little surrogate flock of kitties.

For the past several weeks we’ve been taking the dogs up to the West Elk Trail to let them run wild before the rifle stage of hunting season began. On September 26 she went up alone with Tod and followed him on his bike. I stayed home and made salsa. Zeus stayed with me because he can’t keep up with the bike. Tod and Venus came across some cattle on the trail. He said she barked at them but when he told her, “Good girl, leave it” she backed off and didn’t bother them anymore.

We bought an old Jeep CJ5 in August. The dogs love it because it’s open like a convertible and takes us into the back country. We wanted to do some trail maintenance to prepare for the ski season and we needed to get it done before hunting season. So we took the dogs in the CJ and headed up to the trail on October 3.

Because there were a few hunters around setting up encampments, we tied a blaze orange scarf around Venus’s neck and Zeus wore a blaze orange vest. We weren’t taking any chances. Tod brought his chainsaw for clearing fallen trees, so he drove around the trail while the dogs and I hiked in the opposite direction. I cleared limbs and brush strewn across the trail. 

About halfway through, as we climbed out of a gully, Venus’s nose hit the ground and she took off uphill like a bullet. Zeus followed her. I heard bells – tinkling bells.

“Oh crap,” I muttered. “Sheep.”

I couldn’t see the sheep but I knew they must be on top of the hill. I called the dogs but they were not in listening mode. I heard Venus bark once. I also heard a smattering of “baahs”. I just kept walking and figured I’d assess the situation once I reached the crest.

Zeus reappeared about a hundred yards ahead. Looking slightly frantic he made eye contact with me then began galloping in circles as his tail spun around like a helicopter blade. Wearing his blaze orange vest he looked so ridiculous I couldn’t help but laugh at him. I assumed he had made an effort to control whatever the situation was on top of the hill that I still couldn’t see and had failed miserably then slipped into worry mode. Zeus knows nothing about sheep and has no herding instincts whatsoever.

“Come on back Zeus,” I called.

He just kept running in circles with his tail rotating wildly which was a good thing because laughing at him helped me remain calm. Venus has never attacked or harmed another species so it was pointless to panic.

On the hilltop I saw the herd huddled together at the edge of the woods. There must have been about 75-80 sheep. But I couldn’t see Venus. I called her name – still no sign of her. Zeus ran toward the sheep. Bleating and squealing they scattered in all directions. I was reminded of the movie Babe where the anthropomorphic sheep cried “Wolf! Wolf!” whenever Fly ran at them. They probably thought he was a wolf and panicked. I called him off and he obediently retreated. 

That’s when I saw Venus. She flew around from the back of the herd then she cut to the front. Even though we had not gone to sheepherding school I had learned quite a lot about sheepherding from Katz’s books. Venus made all the right moves. In less than a minute she had all the sheep back together in a tight circle at the edge of the woods and held them there.

“Good girl. Leave it,” I called. “Good girl. Hold.” I even tried, “That’ll do, that’ll do” like in the movie and felt a little silly. Somehow “bah ram ewe” didn’t seem appropriate for the situation.  

She was in another world. I don’t think she saw or heard me. She never made eye contact. Instead her eyes were glued to the herd, watching for stragglers. She kept them together, silently dashing back and forth. Working, working, working. With Venus in charge the sheep stayed calm and surprisingly quiet. I figured they were used to Akbash.

But Zeus scared the hell out of them. I decided it was best to keep him moving. They were safe with Venus and she was in sheepdog nirvana. I heard the chainsaw so I knew Tod was up ahead. Zeus and I met up with him and I explained what had happened and what Venus was busy doing. I knew he could entice her into chasing the CJ, which was exactly the way the adventure ended.

Afterward Venus was totally exhausted and completely calm. She vomited a couple times when we got home. I remembered Zeus’s bout with gastritis last winter and assumed a huge adrenalin rush on top of an empty stomach was the problem. I fed her half a can of chicken dog food and that settled her stomach. She was a little stiff for the rest of the day and slept it off.

I’m glad Venus had the opportunity to herd sheep. Her performance was nearly perfect considering she had never herded sheep before. I’m glad I got the chance to see her in action. I was amazed at her instinctive behavior. Most of all I’m glad nobody got hurt.

Read the Crazy Bitch series. Or click on the handy links provided on the left.

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