Just some random notes about Jobs...
Larry's shepherd's need jobs or they do ridiculous things. Like Grish will eat an entire role of toilet paper every day unless he feels he is important in some way. So sometimes Larry brings him to work. Athena, in her lack of job-i-ness, has been ambitious and pro-active in finding her own jobs. That of the "official bark at the sheep when they come near the fence" job. she's gotten good at it. The sheep have gotten good at ignoring her. She has an understudy, and his name is Sergeant. Because they are so good at those jobs, Larry and I have been taking them to work. Yeah - real jobs. Larry takes Athena (sometimes Grish) and I take Sergeant.
That brings me to another point. I sheepishly asked if I could bring Sergeant to work with me. The answer was, "yes, unless we tell you otherwise. He has to behave" Of all the dogs we have at home, he is the least likely to bark, cause trouble, or pee in my office. So Sergeant wins. And then I realized - what the heck! I finally have it! I finally have a job that I can wear jeans every day AND bring a dog to work? This is heaven, isn't it?
Anyhow - almost all of our dogs have "jobs" now. The Shepherds all come to work on occasion - so they have fancy corporate jobs. The GPs have BIG jobs - guarding sheep, barking at coyotes, chasing away hawks, jumping in the red neck water feature and keeping tabs on all the neighbor horses. Important jobs.
Ditka's job is to just grow old gracefully, which he isn't doing very well. I guess his job is to ensure that I get new hardwood floors soon. Very soon. He's wrecking every square inch of carpet in the house very slowly and methodically.
That leaves Hobbes. He has a job! He's the farm dog. He rides in the farm truck. He rides in the truck bed. Last night he accompanied us out on the pasture to move the chicken house. (well, we could build a giant badger....) He and I rode in the back end, so I could open and close gates. His presence ensured the sheep would NOT come inside the chicken enclosure in search of chicken feed. Which is good. I hate chasing sheep. And then, when we went into the barn.... as the GPs stared in amazement (great at barking at coyotes, bad at catching critters) Hobbes caught a mouse and ate it. (ew) Maybe we don't need a barn cat after all! Hobbes was quite quick with it and seemed to sort of like it. Hobbes has certainly taken to "country living". All I know is that he was a happy dog in the back end of that truck (no, we would never let him ride there on an actual road, just in the pasture) and I think he knew just how cool his new life is.