If Crazy Eddie had been a horse, I would have thought he overindulged on loco weed.
Eddie was a good enough dog in his own way. He was friendly and could have been a lap dog, but we didn’t have much use for lap dogs on the ranch.
He was a big, yellow, awkward, matted-haired mongrel with a chihuahua attitude.
On second thought, he wouldn’t have made a very good lap dog either.
We tried our best to teach Crazy Eddie some cow-dog etiquette, but he never could seem to get the drift.
When we were ready to go somewhere, the other dogs would jump in the back of the pickup, but Eddie would just run around the truck and bark. If we tried to catch him and load him up, he would hide under the pickup and growl.
Crazy Eddie had about as much brains as a bull goose.
The only two dogs on the ranch Crazy Eddie could whip, were pups and whenever anyone would feed the dogs, Eddie would quit his food and tackle one of the younger dogs. It never seemed to occur to Crazy Eddie that he was going to get whipped off the pup’s food anyway or that while he was fighting with the pup, one of the old veteran hunting dogs was wolfing down the food Eddie had left when he decided to take on the pup.
Eddie never did learn to do anything the easy way.
We tried to get him to find cattle, but Crazy Eddie could never find a cow. He spent most of his time running after lizards, or sticking his nose somewhere it wasn’t wanted. If he couldn’t find some little critter to aggravate, he would run in circles chasing his tail.
Crazy Eddie just couldn’t seem to keep out of trouble when he was a young dog, nor did things get much better as he aged.
Now he could do a great job of barking at cattle after the other dogs found them. In fact, he would keep barking long after the cowboys were trying to drive the cattle and the dogs that had done the work had moved on to look for more cattle.
Crazy Eddie was like that, always trying to take credit for something he didn’t do and messing up what was going on in the process.
Usually, if a dog is totally worthless, his owner will claim that he is a good watch dog, but Crazy Eddie couldn’t even get that right. If a stranger walked into the barn, Eddie was as likely to open one eye and yawn as he was to bark. But let a friend stop by to visit, someone he had seen a thousand times, and Crazy Eddie took on the demeanor of a she-bear protecting cubs. He was always trying to impress someone.
A discerning trait Crazy Eddie developed when he was older was he became one of those dogs that had to join in whenever he heard anyone sing. Cowboys often like to sing when they are rounding up a pasture. It lets the cowboys keep track of each other so that they don’t get too far apart and miss gathering some cattle, or get too close and work the same country. Singing is also soothing to the cattle and lets them know someone is close by. But when Crazy Eddie was along, he would start to howl like a demented coyote out of tune and out of time if anyone started a song. This upset the cattle, making them want to run away or fight, so we had to forgo singing while gathering a pasture if Crazy Eddie was around.
The singing thing really became a problem when Crazy Eddie started to wail around camp if anyone drug out a guitar or fiddle and started to play. The poor old dog couldn’t keep from joining in and this would inevitably make the musician mad. He would usually kick Crazy Eddie out of camp and Eddie would retaliate by sneaking back into the vicinity and heisting his leg on anything he could find.
This became so much a problem that one evening one of the cowboys threatened to neuter Eddie with a dull knife. The idea quickly grew in popularity, but suddenly Eddie was nowhere to be found.
Maybe Crazy Eddie was smarter than we gave him credit for, because he disappeared that night we talked about neutering him and we haven’t seen him since.
Como Siempré, Jinx