The Farmer & His Wife

She might not be able to speak, John Taylor says, but sheepdog Jip is a faithful old friend . . .

WHEN Jip, our faithful old sheepdog, was going with me round the sheep, she would stop now and then to rub her ears on the ground.

I know she makes out she’s going deaf from time to time when she pretends not to hear a command, but this was different.

I told Anne when we got back to the house and the next thing Anne was on the phone to the vet in Cupar to make an appointment.

Anne’s like me. If Jip was suffering, no trouble or expense would be spared trying to help her.

Jip’s no spring chicken, and she’s far more than just a sheepdog.

She’s a faithful friend to us both, and even though she can’t speak as such, she can convey so much with her eyes and tail.

I know folk say you should retire dogs from active service when they reach nine or ten, but how can you when they love to work with you?

Any time I’m going somewhere in the tractor, she begs to come, so I lift her up and she sits in the cab with paws on the front, keeping a watchful eye on every living thing as we drive through the fields.

Later that day, Anne took Jip to the vet in Cupar and her description of the vet’s waiting room made it sound like a mad-house!

The room was in pandemonium.

The occupants comprised a lady with a Siamese cat in a basket, another lady clutching a lamb, a boy with an Alsatian and a constantly yapping Yorkshire Terrier.

Meanwhile, Anne and Jip sat quietly in the midst of this mayhem, patiently waiting their turn.

Eventually, Anne came away with a wee plastic bottle of ointment to squirt in Jip’s ears.

I’m pleased to say it did the trick and was worth the expense.

Anne and I were brought up to love and respect animals, and I’m glad to say we’ve passed this on to our children.

When animals have been a part of your life from your earliest memories, you treat them with affection. ■