A farm is more than just a business, a collection of equipment or a stretch of dirt. It is a living, breathing ecosystem held together by a thousand small rhythms — the sound of the tractor at dawn, the clanging of gates and the steady trot of a loyal dog. For 10 years, that beat was kept by Jordy. This week, our farm grew quiet as Jordy crossed the rainbow bridge, leaving a hole in our hearts that feels as wide as the south pasture.
More Than a Pet
To the outside world, a dog is a pet. But every farmer knows a farm dog is a partner, a coworker and a keeper of secrets. Jordy was all of those things and more. He was a fixture of our daily lives, a constant presence from the first cup of coffee to the final rounds at night.
For the employees, Jordy was the coworker who never had a bad day. He showed up every morning ready to work, his tail wagging a greeting to everyone who stepped onto the gravel. For our children, he was the silent witness to their childhood. They grew up alongside him, and as they got older, the arguments over who got to play with him or who he loved most became a soundtrack to our home. He was their first friend, their protector and their most patient playmate.
Then there was the boss — my husband. Jordy’s devotion to him was something to behold. He listened to every word with a religious intensity, following commands before they were even fully spoken. But as the farm mom, I had a different bond with him. Our evening talks were my sanctuary. In the middle of a hard season, when the weight of the world felt heavy on my shoulders, Jordy would look at me with those knowing eyes. Somehow, he always gave me a glimmer of hope that my worries were small and that, eventually, everything would be okay.
Racetracks and Cow Trailers: The Joy of the Work
Jordy lived for the excitement of the farm. When a cow trailer pulled into the yard, it was like Christmas morning for him every single time. He’d be there at the gate, ready to assist — his instincts sharp and his heart full. He loved helping the kids feed the calves, turning the calf shed into his own personal racetrack, weaving in and out with a joy that was infectious.
Of course, he had his quirks that made him legendary. He was a brave protector against raccoons or anything else that dared to step foot on our property, yet he lived in absolute terror of the old mama Simouse farm cat. He knew the schedule better than we did, too. Every other Monday, when the vet arrived for the herd health check, Jordy would vanish. He feared those shots were coming for him, and so he’d spend the morning tucked away in the back of the garage, waiting for the danger to pass.
He wasn’t a fan of loud noises, either. Fireworks would send him running, and more than once he ended up at the local pound. Every time, the staff knew exactly who he belonged to. They didn’t even have to look at a tag; they knew him by his wagging tail and that unmistakable farm smell — a mix of fresh air, hay, cow manure and hard work.
The Heavy Grace of a Farm Dog’s Final Days
Watching a farm dog grow old is a heavy kind of grace. They slow down, but their spirit never wavers. Just a few days ago, Jordy was still doing what he loved — moving cows to and from the parlor, sharing a meal with the crew and riding shotgun in the Can-Am with the wind in his ears.
You never truly know when the last day is going to be. It serves as a reminder to all of us in this line of work: Hold your family close, appreciate the help you have and never take a loyal dog for granted. Jordy, the cows are in, the chores are done and you’ve earned your rest. We’ll take it from here, buddy.
