I drove out to check on our cows yesterday, who are in the summer pasture. When we check on them, we make sure they they are all acounted for, make sure the fences aren't broken down, check the condition of the feed and the water, etc. And then, if the dogs have been well-behaved, then I like to let them practice their herding skills, by following different commands and such. So yesterday, I told the dogs to chase two yearling heifers back toward the herd. They started doing so, and then Cooper (cute doggie in the picture) gets kicked right in the kisser. He gets kicked all the time, so I wasn't too worried. He came back over to me with a mouth full of blood, which is nothing new, but I checked to make sure that all of his teeth were still intact, which they were, so I assumed that he'd be fine in a minute or two. Then his legs started shaking. He could hardly stand up on his own because his legs were trembling and shaking. I went to him and held him for a few minutes, and my heart was racing. He wobbled away from me and started throwing up blood. At this point, I was pretty sure that he had a brain injury or internal bleeding, and that he was going to die. And that I was going to have to call Clayton and tell him that I killed the dog. It was so scary! After he threw up, I sat on the ground and held him on my lap, just worrying and wondering what to do. This whole time, we are in the middle of the field. The cows are starting to get curious and are wandering over towards us to see what's going on. Baxter, my cute dog #2, for once in his life does NOT chase them and get them even more riled up. Bless his little heart, without me telling him to, he crouches down and stares those cows down. They don't dare come any closer with him giving them the evil eye. It was really quite touching to see him "protecting" us. After several minutes go by, Cooper's shaking lessens, and he is able to stand up on his own. We start heading across the field to the truck, and he wobbles back like a drunken sailor. If I wasn't so scared that I had mortally injured him, then I would have laughed, because he looked so ridiculously drunk. But we made it to the water trough, where he had a long drink of water, and that seemed to help him perk up. By the time we made it back to the truck, he was walking mostly normally and was able to jump into the truck. He made it through the night (I woke up occasionally to make sure he was still breathing!) and this morning is doing just fine, with just a small gash on his cheek. I'm so glad he didn't die! I love my dogs.