Near Trácht Each

Many of them are on the island, and all of them are lovely in their very own way. Some are outgoing and nosy, eager to know what is going on while there are others which show some sort of shyness and are, until the latest moment before meeting, undecisive whether to bark or hide.
Most of them are working dogs. They are the ones trained to help their master with handling the cattle. During the day and even sometimes at night time those ones have a job to fulfil which they apparently love. Dancing and jumping around and about, sometimes accompanied by barking they are willing to participate. Between these hours of commitment there is always some time to spend for themselves though. As I use to find Sailor, having a wee rest on the side of the road opposite the masters’ house milking the sun. Although he seems to be asleep when I pass him his tail sways politely.


Not many years have been passed since he arrived from the mainland as a puppy. He then got the difficult role of replacing Rover, his predecessor which had died previously. Which dog would ever be able to replace a dog like Rover, the hard worker and everyone’s friend. The one who always was good humoured and never missed the moment to make you a warm welcome after returning home with begging for a hug.

In the sunshine



Well, Sailor you managed! You passed the test. Not only you are, I hardly dare to say, almost, as friendly as Rover used to be, you also seem to take up your role as a working dog as serious as a master only could dream of; never you will disregard your task. However, if there might be any time left to spend it will be often with Rasher the pussycat as what Rover loved too with his cat friend. With Rasher lying snugly on your lap you both enjoy the sunshine. The other day there, high above the ground, I saw you sitting upright on the wall which gives entrance to the garden gate. The front paws placed straight before you and your head was in an upheaved position. Rasher had taken the same position, only half a yard behind. For any sort of greeting there was no time. Guarding the place that was what mattered now.


Slán go fóill,
Elisabeth from Inis Meáin