What a beautiful morning it is! All that wind and rain last night cleaned and washed everything!

The grass is SO GREEN! All the fresh dirt Rich turned yesterday afternoon is dark and contrasts very nicely with the green grass (and weeds) surrounding the garden beds. The birds are singing, the grazers are out grazing on the lush pastures, and life is good.
Rich answered the question about Kiara last night, but Jasper's story is a bit different. He was born and raised on a farm where the owners subscribed to the "never handle your guardian dog" theory, which by the way, was something that ONE MAN wrote about once, and for some reason, it's become gospel. It's not right. You have to be able to handle your dogs. What happens if one needs to see the vet? What if they're injured in some way and need hands-on care? That whole idea of keeping your hands off the dogs is BS. They'll bond with and protect their critters just as well,
and be your friend and partner in business, if they're acclimated to people. What happened to Jasper was a travesty, and very close to what I would call abuse. Mental abuse, for sure.
The guy we got him from admitted that the way they discouraged contact between the Pyrs and the people was to yell/kick/scream at the dogs if they got too close. Seriously? They did this to little puppies? If the guy hadn't been in southern Wyoming, I would have gone over and beat the snot out of him. The next best thing was to take Jasper off his hands and try to repair the damage. Jasper was seven months old when we got him, and well over a year before I was able to lay a single finger on him. He STILL spooks if I touch his collar. But it took years, literally, years for him to trust me, and that was only because I used every dog psychology trick in the book on him. He was basically a juvenile wild wolf, and taming a wolf is no small feat. He seems to trust me now, but not 100%. I'd say about 95%.

Occasionally, we had to catch him, for a vet visit, or for dewclaw trimming, or some such thing, and every time it would set me back to square one with him, and I'd have to start all over with the trust issues. Now, finally, he's 6-1/2 years old, and we can catch him for a nail trim and he forgives almost immediately. If I'm not quick with the collar grab, though, that's it, he runs away and it will take days before I can try again, because he thinks I'm "up to something sinister."
But all that aside, I saw in him long ago a great and noble dog, and he did finally become that dog I saw deep down inside the frightened teenage wolf he was when we met him. He takes my breath away. He's
absolutely the best dog I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. He won't let me hug him or kiss the top of his head, but he graces me with favors occasionally, like walking up beside me and brushing my hand with his nose as I'm walking to and from the barns. (He's actually looking for a cookie, but he would NEVER do that for the first several years we had him.) And he lets me approach him and touch and pet him when he's lying down, which he would also NEVER do for the first several years. He'd jump up and run when I got inside his flight zone. He's been a very intense "project," but worth every bit of effort. I don't know what I'll do without him, when he finally leaves us. That guy is going to leave a huge hole in my heart, bigger than any other that came before him. I love him so much.