Where in the World Did Big Boy Go?

Big Boy is our Great Pyrenees livestock guardian dog.  That is a misnomer because we found out the hard way that Big Boy liked to eat our chickens rather than protect them.  As a result, Big Boy now roams free outside of the pasture.  We have a large 30' cable that we clip him to from time to time as he has a penchant for roaming all over the countryside and neighbors bring him back.  Several times we've had to drive down the road and pick him up.

He still has all of his male (ahem) equipment, so I would assume that he is seeking lady friends, but he is a free spirit and likes to roam.  One day I was approached in my front yard by a neighbor who, as politely as he could, mentioned to me that Big Boy had marked his territory at his house by peeing on his chrome Harley Davidson motorcycle.  Being a free spirit can get you in trouble with the neighbors! But for all intents and purposes, he is a good dog.  He barks at strangers that drive up in the yard until he gets to know them.  He catches and kills possums and other varmints.  He is protective of us and I appreciate that.

He has some bad habits other than chicken killing, though.  Big Boy digs holes.  Big holes. Everywhere.  You would think that he would stick to one hole, but no, he doesn't.  He digs a crater, lays in it for a while, and then digs another crater elsewhere.  It drives me nuts.  When a good rain comes, all the loose dirt from his digging washes away, leaving us with an erosion problem.  In the photo below, you can see his replica of the Grand Canyon underneath the trampoline and to the right of the trampoline, in the center of the photo and then in the bottom left of the photo. When we walk out to milk the cows, we have to exercise caution to not fall in the holes and twist an ankle.

Big Boy's holes are exceedingly annoying to me, but we still like him.  He's almost like one of the family. We all have our warts and "issues," don't we?  Saturday morning when we all left for the livestock show in Lake Charles, we saw Big Boy laying in a fresh-dug hole in a new place.  I shook my head.

When we returned Saturday night, Big Boy was nowhere to be found.  I didn't think much of it.  He was probably out on "maneuvers."  But Sunday morning when he wasn't home, Tricia and I became concerned. Did he get hit by a car?  I didn't see a big white carcass anywhere in the road.  Did someone steal him?  Well, they'd return him once he commenced to digging up their yard.  When we got back home from church - still no Big Boy.  Although we didn't verbally express it, we were all worried.  It was quiet and different around the house without the big guy.  We were sad, but kept a stiff upper lip.

Sunday evening we were driving back from Evening Services at church.  Our church is about a mile away from our home.  I was driving and Tricia was in the passenger seat with Benjamin in the back.  Suddenly, Tricia yelled, "LOOK!  THERE'S BIG BOY!"  I'm not exaggerating when I tell you that I almost ran off the road.  She scared me with the yelling.  Sure enough, walking in the ditch on the west side of State Highway 26 was the big old white hole digger himself.  I honked the horn and he recognized us and quickened his pace.

We drove on home and got out of the car and clapped and called him.  Pretty soon he came trotting up to us.  He was dirty.  It looked like he had walked through mud. And he was tired.  Exhausted, even. For the next day and a half, he wasn't the same. He laid around and rested.  Why, he didn't even have the energy to dig any holes.

Tired Boy

Tricia theorizes that he missed us, thought we were in trouble, and set off to find us and rescue 'his people'.  He may have followed us to Lake Charles (41 miles away) for all we know.  While I was happy that our erosion problem slowed down for a few days, it was sure nice to have Big Boy back home.  Welcome Home, Big Boy!