Sherlock

A conversation at lunch the other day brought my mind to Sherlock.  Sherlock was a dog I once knew and admired.  I met him at work.  Many years ago I worked at a group home in Elk River.  The home had 6 men, 6 women, and one black lab named Sherlock.  Sherlock came with the job.  He even had his own med sheet for his daily heart worm pill.  He didn't like his chew-able medicine but he would eat it if I wrapped it in cheese. Two weekends per year he went duck hunting with the owner of the group home but the other 361 days a year he belonged to us.  What I liked most about Sherlock was that he acted like one of the staff.  If I was taking 12 people on a nature walk along the lake shore of the property, Sherlock would help.  If I gave his leash to the fastest walker, Sherlock would slow them down so they wouldn't get too far ahead of the group.  If I have his leash to the slow poke of the group, he would pull them faster so they wouldn't be left too far behind. Sherlock always came running when his name was called.  He didn't jump up on anyone.  Like all dogs, Sherlock was complex.  While roaming free he would scout the neighboring farms for aborted calves.  He would bring them home a quarter section at a time.  Super gross. Since Sherlock made my job easier, I was a fan of his.  After I left that job I would ask about him.  One winter I heard he was missing.  Sherlock was found in the spring.  He had probably fallen through the ice and was unable to crawl up out of the hole.  Poor Sherlock.  What a horrible way to go.