Oso, The Ropin' Dog

by Frank DuBois

Julie Carter's column got me to thinking about my dog Oso.

I used to participate in a newsgroup for individuals with multiple sclerosis, where we would discuss the latest research, symptom management techniques, etc. and share personal vignettes from our lives with ms.

Below are two of my posts about Oso.  The first is from the mid 90's and given what I wrote the second was in 2001.

My cousin in Corona, NM had a heeler bitch that was "gotten to" by a town dog, a chow.  Not having any use for the pups, he was killing them one day till the womenfolk got there and saved two of them.

Both pups came south.  The fellow that got the other pup moved to Ca. and later sent back newspaper articles about the dog winning a bunch of frisbee catching contests.

And I got Oso.  He looked like a little bear when they brought him to my place.

I'm sure some will be curious of why he rode in the horse trailer.  I could never break him from barking and raising hell in the back of my truck.  I couldn't stand it so I made him ride in the trailer.  There he would only bark till we got to the highway, and then he would shut up till we pulled off a paved road and headed to the arena.  I did get some funny looks as I pulled in.  Some actually thought he was in the saddle compartment until they watched us unload.

Other than that, Oso did exactly what I said.  I noticed early on that if I raised my voice to him he would slide under the truck.  From then on if he was doing something he wasn't supposed to I'd yell "get under that truck."  A lot of folks though I was a helluva dog trainer.

Here at The Westerner I'd do some heavy editing on these two items, but I've decided to just post'em as I wrote'em back then.  I was known as Cowboy at the newsgroup.


Saved by Oso The Ropin' Dog

On another post, Carmel and Barb asked that I relate how my roping buddy,
Oso, saved me one day.  Oso is half red heeler and half chow and I've had
him since he was about 5 weeks old.

About 8 years ago, when my symptoms were still minimal, I walked for
exercise.  Running was not an option because of bad knees left over from my
younger years when I thought of being a world champion steer wrestler.

There's some canals and irrigation ditches around my place, with roads for
the ditch riders along each ditch.  These make a great place to walk.

Whether exercising my horses, or myself, Oso always accompanied me.  I had
walked these roads for several years with never a problem with beast or man.

Oso, like many heelers will do, was always way out in front, either hunting
or "clearing the path".  This day I was walking by a pecan orchard.  I had
noticed a crew was working in the orchard, thinning the trees.  After a bit,
I heard a noise in the orchard and a man holler.  The noise I heard was
something coming through the orchard, rattling the downed tree limbs.
Didn't take long to see what it was...the biggest, blackest, meanest looking
dog I'd ever seen, coming right at me.

I remember quickly thinking  "Oso's too far away...I can't run...better not
kick for fear of losing my balance and going down.."  I decided to turn and
face the dog, and braced for the onslaught.  I kept hoping for a sign of
weakness or that the dog would slow, but the closer he got the faster he
came, with a terrible look in his eyes.  Just when he got to the spot where
he was going to leap, I saw a red blur in the corner of my eye.  Oso hit
that big bastard going full blast and knocked him asshole over teakettle.
When he quit rolling, he went hobbling and yelping back into the orchard.

Till this day, I don't know how Oso made it back.

That was the day Oso saved my butt, and it was also the day the tears ran
down both my legs.

Cowboy

Oso, The Ropin' Dog, Is Gone

We had to put my dog down tonight. 

Oso turned 14 this spring.

From the time he was a pup, till 4 years ago when I had to quit roping, Oso
went to every practice and event with me.  He was known in arena's up to 600
miles away from home.  Nobody got around my truck or trailer, unless I let
Oso know it was ok.

Oso rode in the horse trailer with the horses.  I would open the tailgate
and he would hit once and then be up in the feed manger.  Rode there till I
unloaded the horse.  Got some funny looks but that was the way he liked it.

There were alot of hamburgers and hotdogs that "just seemed to disappear"
around the rodeo stands.

Sharon didn't care that much for him, cause he ignored her.

One night when I was out of town, she got a late start going tp town , so took
Oso with her.  He ran off three men who tried to hassle her in a dark parking lot.
Oso became her favorite too.

If the horse trailer was hooked to the truck, Oso thought he should go too.
I would have to unhook the trailer, or Oso would stay right there all
night...was afraid I might leave him.  For those out-of-state ropings or
those just too far away to take him, Oso would have a fit.  Would run in
front of my truck doin' figure 8s all the way to the main road and then
chase me for as far as he could.

If we were bringing home a new trophy saddle or buckle, he was proud and
happy.  If things hadn't gone that well, he would sense it and kind of hang
back...till I spoke to him and let him know things were ok anyway.  He
helped me out of some blue funks that way.

Oso adjusted to the shuffling walk, then the crutches, and finally the
wheelchair.  Don't believe he ever adjusted to not going to a ropin' for 4
years.  Got some real funny looks from him.

Thought we were going to lose him last year, but the tough ol' buzzard made
a comeback.  He'd been sick this time for a while, vet said there was
nothing they could do.

He was in pain, started drooling, there was nothing left to do but put him
down.

He's buried back behind the house, between the hay barn and the horse stalls.

Guess it's ok that I can't rope anymore, cause I couldn't go now anyway.

A Weepin' Cowboy