We’ve got seven forested acres out here at Camp One. It’s not the biggest piece of land, but it’s more than we’ve ever had to manage.

And in those first few nights spent here, we heard sounds we’d never heard in the city. Screeches and scratches, the scuttle of little feet and the clack of hooves on our wooden deck. It was unnerving. There were living things moving about just outside.

What about those deeper, darker areas of the property beyond our vision and hearing?

We now know that these were owls and foxes, rats in the woodpiles, and deer passing through. All generally harmless, but there are other, larger visitors.

Black bear rummage through the garbage and mountain lions slink about in search of prey. We knew we wanted to keep stock on the property, chickens and goats. They would need to be protected.

Humans have relied upon dogs to protect their homes and livestock for thousands of years. There are specific breeds that have done this work for so long that it’s part of their nature. Among these livestock guardian dogs is the Anatolian Shepherd.

That little guy isn’t quite ready to guard anything, but incorporating a pup into a herd of goats or sheep or a flock of chickens is one approach to bonding the dog to the stock. With some guidance from the humans, the dog’s breeding will kick in as it matures and he’ll defend his charges as an automatic response to threats.

We learned about the Anatolian Shepherds (also called Kangals) from a family we trust and respect. It sounded like the right breed for us, but we’re Muslim and dogs can be a hassle.

Dogs have a somewhat dubious reputation in our tradition. On the one hand they are seen as ritually filthy. Beyond the physical mess that all dogs make, there is a belief that contact with the saliva of a dog will render one unable to perform required acts of worship until ritually purified. There is some discussion amongst Muslim scholars as to the details around all of this, but it’s something that all observant Muslims will have to plan for. In addition, we’ve been warned that angels will not enter a home wherein resides a dog.

On the other hand, it is through kindness to a dog that a prostitute earned Paradise.

If we were going to keep a dog, we would need a plan.

Stay Outside

I don’t understand Muslims, or really anybody, that would keep a dog inside their house. Dogs are a mess.

Yes, you can train them to minimize their mess, but, putting aside all ritual and metaphysical concerns, they are still pretty gross.

They stink. They chew on everything. They slobber. If you take them outside for a walk, they have no problem nosing around in the muck and giving just about everything a taste. Dogs are nasty and if you keep one in your house, you’ve effectively made a decision to embrace the nasty.

The whole dog-as-pet thing introduces some larger ethical concerns as well. Considering the process of domestication, the generations of breeding a wild, roaming pack animal into some teacup lap buddy for the purpose of learning a few cute tricks and receiving your strokes is an absurd, and arguably selfish endeavor. Our desire for companionship should never be at the expense of the health and wellbeing of another creature.

Here is a vegan perspective that I found thought provoking.

We weren’t interested in a pet. Rather, our focus would be to establish a reciprocal relationship with a working animal. Everybody needs a job on a homestead, and we were willing to barter food and shelter in exchange for the dog’s protective vigilance.

The Kangal was bred by nomadic herders in the mountains of Central Asia. It’s a large, lithe dog with a double coat that insulates against fierce heat and brutal winters. Our dog (pictured at the top of this post) stays outside, as have his ancestors for generations.

Suit Up

Maybe not quite that dramatic, but everybody’s got a set of boots and long-sleeve coveralls that we wear when working with the dog. Those coveralls stay inside the garage and don’t see the inside of our house until they’re ready to wash.

Which is another process.

Ritually purifying oneself after contact with the dog’s saliva or wet fur requires, according to the most stringent opinions, a sevenfold washing. At least one of those washings must incorporate earth.

We’ve got a large bin full of sandy gravel that we dip our hands into for a nice, exfoliating dusting before we wash with soap and water. We similarly bury our coveralls in the sand and shake them out before tossing them into the washing machine, following the opinion of some scholars that the agitator in the machine exceeds the sevenfold requirement.

Honorable Beast

I spend upwards of two hours each day with our dog. At about nine months, he’s still a pup and my intention is to bond and to coach, to help our dog understand his role in our family.

This would typically be the job of elder working dogs who would be quick to discipline him for chasing or otherwise harassing the stock. Dogs are impulsive animals with an abundance of energy and curiosity. A young dog may want to play with the animals he’s meant to protect. Large, and with the most powerful bite among canines, our Kangal doesn’t understand that his games could hurt or even kill his charges.

I don’t play with our dog. I spend time walking with him around the property. I feed him and give him an abundance of affection as part of building trust. When he jumps at me or playfully takes my arm into his mouth, I correct him. I stand up, present myself full and stern, and give him a shove with a loud NO.

Kangals are intelligent but stubborn, having been bred for independence. The conditioning must be repeated over and over, particularly through his youth and what we might term his adolescence. And while the above may sound rigid, there are huge stakes in leaving the animal to mature without guidance.

A Kangal leaping up to play with my youngest daughter will easily knock her over. A Kangal mouthing the leg of a goat could inadvertently snap its femur when that goat tries to get away. In short, an unchecked dog can become a huge liability for the homestead.

But a dog that has been skillfully guided into its role is a thing of wonder.

Our dog has warned us about gates that were left open. When a number of our chickens went missing, our dog brought us the one that had survived the night and showed us the body of another that had been killed. When he’s sitting with the goats, he is somehow able to discern a threat beyond the background noise of birds and rustling leaves, and respond accordingly with his deep, growling bark.

The angels keep clear, I believe, in deference to the ferocity of a dog’s protective instinct.

And while I see it as my duty to instruct him, I am perhaps more often the student.

I see in his stubborn acquiescence something of the fits and starts that characterize my personal growth. I am not one to comply without argument, reluctant to give up my ideas about the way to go about things even if God All-Mighty says otherwise.

I see in his vigilance the need to remain wary of threats before they actually materialize, and to ward them away in advance of any confrontation.

And I see in his ultimately servile disposition an opportunity to align with him in the honoring of our Master’s will.

Tell us how you feel about dogs in the comments below!

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