
As you can see from the picture above, we’ve equipped the farm with a couple of ferocious guard dogs to keep predators away. We named them Coco and Misha as the result of several hours of intense negotiations between Sara and Alana, who started out with little common ground (Alana’s first choice was “Lulu,” which Sara hated) but eventually worked through a list of possible names using a rating system developed by Alana and came to an agreement.
Sara is a major dog-lover, a trait she inherited from her father. When we lived in a subdivision, anytime she spotted a neighbor walking a dog, she dropped whatever she was doing and ran outside. I’d eventually have to go outside and say, “Sara, the nice lady would probably like to go home now. Get the dog off your lap and say thank you.” Chareva’s brother has a big ol’ pit bull named Henry, and whenever we visit her family in Chicago, Henry is the main attraction for Sara. As we drove away after our Christmas visit in 2010, Sara was in tears.
“Don’t cry, Honey,” I said. “You’ll see Grandma again soon enough.”
“I don’t miss Grandma (sob, sob). I miss Henryyyyy!”

She has of course been begging us to buy a dog for years, but we always had to give the same answer: someday, when we own our own house with a decent-sized yard, we’ll get you a dog.
Well, we’re in the house and the yard certainly qualifies as “decent-sized,” so it was time. Besides, a farm without a dog just feels wrong somehow. On a purely practical level, we wanted a dog that’s big enough and scary enough to ward off any predators once we start raising chickens and sheep. Coco and Misha aren’t big and scary now, but they’re rottweilers and will grow into the role. (That’s Misha below, demonstrating her escape and evasion ta
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