Hoof Beats: Git Along Little Doggies

This traditional cowboy ballad was one that our music teacher, who went around to all the local grade schools and taught us songs about the various people and their cultures who make up our country. In addition to “Git along little doggies and feel kinda low,/ and do not forever be on the go,” we learned one about Jewish merchants (“My name is Soloman Levi, My store’s on Salem Street/ that’s where you buy you’re your coats and hat/ And everything else so neat”), workers on the Erie Canal (“We’ve hauled some barges in our day/ filled with lumber, coal and hay/ and every inch of the way we know/ from Albany to Buffalo”), and Irish railroad workers (”It’s Pat do this and Pat do that/without a stockin’ or a hat”).

The “doggies” were not dogs — and the two words aren’t even pronounced the same way. The first syllable of “doggie” rhymes with “go” or “low.” Back in those days, a “doggie” (sometimes spelled “dogie”) was an orphaned calf. Why the term mushroomed to include all cattle is a mystery. A similar one is the use of “pony” when the animal is clearly a horse — cow pony. Pony Express, polo pony.  A true pony would be too small to be useful in all three examples.

Let’s move on and talk about real dogs, and whether yours is trail material. The smaller your pooch is, the quicker she’ll get tired. Unless you keep her in your lap the entire ride, leave her home. One of the first dogs I had as an adult came from the Santa Barbara pound. Jesse was a cross between a chow and a Norwegian Elkhound, and she was beautiful with her long brown and black coat. I rode Western in those days, and on one long ride, Jesse was so obviously pooped that I dismounted, picked her up — she weighed about 50 lbs — and slung her across the seat of the saddle. She didn’t object, and I walked the next half mile while she rested.

On another ride, we crossed a meadow filled with yellow wildflowers. On the other side, there were hot springs — a hotel had once been here. I wasn’t dressed for a spa, and even though we were in a remote area without much traffic, I didn’t feel like skinny dipping. On our return trip, l looked back at Jesse. She looked okay, but a big, beautiful, German shepherd followed her. I stopped. Jesse stopped. The dog took a bow — forelegs flat to the ground, rump up, tail wagging. He wanted to play. Jesse looked at him and growled. Her wanna-be playmate was a coyote.

If your dog is female, spay her. Even if she’s a trail dog, spay her. Jesse and my other dogs were all spayed. I’m a big fan of female rescues, because every one of them represents dozens of unwanted puppies. Unless you spay her, leave her home. If she’s in heat, she’ll attract any male dog in the vicinity. What do you plan to do with her puppies?

For some of the same reasons, if you have a pit bull, leave her home too. I don’t care how sweet-tempered she is. A trail-riding friend told me about a new neighbor’s pit bull that got away from her owner and attacked my friend’s horse. Maybe the dog had never seen a horse before, and thought she was protecting her owner by attacking the horse. If your dog — purebred or a rescue — has a high prey drive, leave her home too. Don’t put yourself in a situation like that. One: it could be dangerous. Two: there might be legal and financial repercussions.

Age is another factor. Don’t expect a puppy to keep up with you, and don’t expect an older dog to follow you on a long trail ride. Many years later, when my trail horse was an American Saddlebred named Sinjun and my trail dog was Leah, another rescue, the three of us went for a trail ride. It was a hot summer day, and after a half hour or so, I turned around to check on Leah. She wasn’t there. I panicked and called her name. When she didn’t appear, I backtracked, and found her lying in the shade of a big tree we had just passed, panting. Once again my dog got to ride in my saddle while I led Sinjun all the way home.

More from Joan Fry: Hoof Beats: Trail riding with friends

Joan Fry is a lifelong horse lover and the author of “Backyard Horsekeeping: The Only Guide You’ll Ever Need” (The Lyons Press, Revised Edition, 2007). She can be reached via email at joan@joanfry.com .

This article originally appeared on The Pueblo Chieftain: Hoof Beats: Git Along Little Doggies