As I was sitting on the lawn, having a nice chew at the nicely decomposing bone I had retrieved from the compost pile, I started thinking about what it is to be a maremma. BTW the compost pile is a very good place to bury bones. It keeps my bones safe from those maundering chickens and gives them time to ferment. A word to fellow maremmas: it is not a good idea to try and take a ripe old bone inside to have a chomp on at one’s bed. When I did it my Daddy yelled at me and said I was a bad dog and threw my bone outside. I am not a bad dog!!
Anyway, back to my thought. What does it mean to be a maremma? We are a very old breed from the Italian Alps and our main job is to protect sheep. Unfortunately I don’t have a large flock of sheep of my own, but I do have my human flock to protect. I have to bark to warn potential threats that I am here and patrol my property keeping an eye on whoever may be around. I like to bark at the sky, the moon, the birds, the builders next door. Sometimes, I bark just because I can. I can be heard all over the Mangamahu valley. I bark because people drive past our home and do not stop to admire me. They thoughtlessly continue to drive past. I have to bark to tell them I am here waiting for their attention.
More about me tomorrow. Love Jasper the wonder dog.