Maccabee & Me

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My name is Bernie. It’s not the name I would have picked for an eighty-five-pound herding dog, but it belonged to Great-grandpa Cantrell. Now it’s mine. Great-grandpa drove the first stake into the ground at Southcliff Ranch over seven hundred dog years ago. A Cantrell has owned the ranch ever since.

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Brady, Emily, and their son, Miles, call Southcliff Ranch home. And so do I. I’ve dedicated my life to being the best guard dog I can be for them. I chase pesky animals away from the farm. Miles says my deep growl keeps the family safe.

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Today, I want to share a tale about the wildest stallion that ever roamed the Atler Mountain foothills and how the stallion became friends with Miles and me. It all started when Miles turned eleven—.

Me, Bernie, the loyal dog, watched as Miles celebrated his birthday. The candles flickered out, and Miles unwrapped a large gift. His eyes widened with delight as he pulled out a chestnut-colored saddle, and its impressive rigging.

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“Wow!” Miles said. “Thanks, Mom and Dad. Tomorrow, can we ride over to Horse Valley Pass? I’ve been dreaming of roping that wild stallion I’ve seen running through the valley.”

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Carlos, the local wrangler, chimed in. “Remember, Miles, Maccabee is a wild stallion. He has eluded capture so far.”

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“If he dodges the ropes again tomorrow, are you willing to choose a different horse?” Brady asked.

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Miles nodded at Carlos and his Dad. “But, I’m sure we’ll rope Maccabee. I can feel it.”

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Sharing Miles determination, I barked in agreement. It was a birthday wish that would soon become an unforgettable adventure.