Woodrow came to me over seven years ago and I’d been looking for a dog of his breed, but I didn’t know I’d get a dog like him.

He is a unicorn really, a gentle giant we adopted from the shelter because his original farmer was leaving state and brought him to the big shelter in our town in the hopes he’d find a good farm to settle onto.

We’ve learned since that adopting an adult LGD (Livestock Guardian Dog) is oftentimes a disaster as these dogs so often are misunderstood and not socialized or trained properly, and the adoption of a 130-poud animal that has the instincts to protect to the death often ends in beautiful animals being destroyed because they have become a danger or have already hurt someone.

Immediately after adopting Woodrow, we found a training method and an LGD community we are still very much involved in and follow to this day. We socialized Woodrow. We made him part of our family. We integrated him into our home and our farm, and for seven years, he has protected what is important to us here on the farm: our people and our animals and our home, and we have not lost one animal to predation since Woodrow’s been on the farm.

He is a creature so devoted to me and mine and so much my companion and right-hand man, that the day I found out he had a life-threatening illness, instead of having him euthanized immediately as advised, I drove him four and a half hours through the mountains to a big city vet and advanced technology for a second opinion.

The correct diagnosis of what was ailing him didn’t have a much better prognosis: 4-6 months of life left in him.

That was over three years ago.

A solid medication regime and all the wild Alaskan salmon, pork, brown rice, and veggies have maintained my old man long enough now that he is an old man and old age may kill him now before his heart condition that was supposed to kill him eventually does.

Woodrow is still my right-hand man and constant companion, and I joke that I’m his favorite heifer. He is always near me. He is one of the greatest champions in my life—and in the lives of everyone he meets, whether it be small child, the elderly at the nursing home, or friends and family who’ve had his massive head resting on their knee. The slobber on their jeans is part of the package of knowing the love of Woodrow. There will never be another like him, and he will hold a piece of my heart forever.

He was my first LGD, and the first one to win my heart for this type of dog, and the one who has spoiled me for any other kind of dog.

I speak to Woodrow in full sentences.

And he understands and does what I ask of him.

A little over two years ago when we figured Woodrow was really pushing the outer parameters of his prognosis, my daughter and I brought in another LGD puppy so that we’d have a replacement LGD on the farm once Woodrow’s time really was finally up. The pup was chosen by our breeder for his sweet and mellow temperament, knowing we wanted to try to match Woodrow’s gentle ways.

Woodrow has trained that puppy into a right proper gentleman, and paired with his strong lineage, the responsible temperament screening of a good breeder, and continuing to follow the training techniques of our go-to LGD mentors, we have two dogs on the farm that we can trust with small children, baby poultry, frail grandmothers, endless lambs, a barn cat, my miniature horse and her little goat companion, and who both guard our farm, our home, and all its inhabitants dutifully. And who we can play with, snuggle with, take on car rides, and dress up.

This week, we have a new little pard on the farm. My daughter and I traveled nine hours round trip and brought her home on Tuesday. We weren’t looking for a puppy, or even a third dog. The plan was that one day, when Woodrow goes, the whippersnapper Marshall (two and a half now) would just take over as the lone wolf on the farm until my daughter is done raising sheep and takes Marshall with her to new pastures and her own home.

But sometimes things happen that make you realize you’ll never get this kind of chance again, so you think about it and pray about it, and talk to the people who know you best…and then I decided that a good dog is a good dog, and that if one day I’m gonna have to live without Woodrow, I’d rather live with a dog that he’s trained than one I know nothing about.

We found out when learning about our new little gal that she is kin to Marshall, and out of the same solid Karakachan lineage. So now, our big puppy is Uncle Marshall, and this new one is every bit as laid back as he is, and our hope as we brought this little one home was that she’d integrate into our little pair of big boys and that everyone would get along just fine.

She is tiny, so tiny. Marshall was the biggest of his litter, and this little gal was the smallest of hers. We thought for sure the big boys would take right to her and protect her and treat her as one of them.

Woodrow settled down onto his blanket with a big sigh and a side-eye, as if asking, “Really, Boss? AGAIN?”

But just like he did with baby Marshall, he adopted a wizened old grandpa attitude and showed the whippersnapper where the best spots are to pee, snarled when manners were forgotten, and upped his guarding so that the little one could watch him chase off ravens and the bi-weekly garbage truck.

Woodrow was little girl’s safe spot within the first hour. She tails him everywhere.

Who we thought was going to be her bff, Marshall, —the young one of the house—well he decided to take an attitude with the new puppy and act like a spoiled brat, growling at her every time she came near him, and being pushy and possessive around the people of the house and Woodrow.

On the second day, I loaded them both up in my truck for a ride, which is the equivalent of putting two kids in a get-along shirt.

Marshall was still grumpy when we got home.

We bedded them all together in our room on the third night thinking a good night’s sleep with their favorite people nearby would freshen his crummy attitude.

My daughter was discouraged. Marshall is her boy, and her and I have worked together these past two years to train him well and he is a sweet fixture on the farm and in our home.

On the fourth day, today, I had almost decided Marshall was not at all going to be like Woodrow and was just not going to adjust to having a puppy in the house and on the farm.

I was discouraged. The plan for this tiny little puppy was for her to one day be a solid partner to Marshall to keep our farm predator-free.

But it was even more than that, and I knew that when I decided I would get her.

She is just a little thing here on the farm, but she is doing something big. She is the dog I brought home to one day become Woodrow’s replacement, as a guardian and teammate to Marshall, yes, but even more so, as a friend and companion to me.

She is the one who will one day be the balm on my heart for having to say goodbye to this gift I’ve been given, this once-in-a-lifetime dog that is my Woodrow.

What are we going to do if Marshall doesn’t mellow out and act more like Woodrow when it comes to raising up puppies?

And then, today around lunch time, just as I was contemplating loading them both up again like a couple of grumpy horses and force them to trailer up in order to come back to the barn getting along, the puppy finished her kibble and all of a sudden got the zoomies.

She began to race around the house with her tail tucked in, her ears laid back, and a huge smile on her face. She ran around the chairs, under the table, through the legs of the side table, and then she flopped out on the sleeping bag on the floor.

Marshall was startled, acted a little scared even, puzzled at this wildness happening in the house, and he went after her to put a stop to it.

And then…

Then his tail started to wag.

Then he did a little bit of a hop and a prance and big boy puppy yip. Marshall in that moment remembered he likes to have fun.

So he started to play with her. He was so very gentle.

I had things to do, but I sat there and watched the two of them for half an hour, rolling around on the sleeping bag, snapping and snarling and pawing, the puppy climbing all up on him, him rolling over on his back, gently egging her on.

They chased, they panted, they romped, they rolled.

Then Woodrow came walking through to see what all the nonsense was about, and they both stopped in their tracks and looked at him to see what he’d have to say about it.

He slid his old back legs up under him and laid on his soft bed we keep in the living room just for him.

He just watched.

And soon, the two puppies began to play again, and Woodrow just looked on, his old face calm and proud.

“For every beast of the forest is Mine, and the cattle on a thousand hills.” – Psalm 50:10