Educating a Farm Dog

It's been a couple of weeks since a stray dog was plucked from a desperate situation.
I found Garrett living under a dock, surviving off frogs.

Day 1 out of Hell.
Day 2 off to the vet's for a makeover, including neutering.  Ouch!
Day 3:

He's a clever boy.  Housebreaking was a cinch.  He doesn't chew, nor bark.  He's still trying to get the hang of sleeping in a bed-- he fell out again last night.
He'll happily ride the four wheeler.

But, prefers the mule:

Getting a hang of riding in a vehicle was tricky.  Until he figured out that he couldn't jump out of the windshield, I was a very distracted driver.  Now, if he could only face forward!

Once per day, he's allowed to follow Cole, Pete and I to the horse pasture.  I ride my bicycle and tote buckets in my wagon.

He has the heart of a lion.  He tries so hard to keep up, but his emaciated frame is only beginning to fill out again.  Cole zooms past us at Mach 2, Pete has this quaint donkey trot and poor Garrett's legs look like wet noodles.  
Spaghetti Legs:

His first report card has all A+'s.  Our new farm dog fits right in here.

I recognize despair when I see it, but I always seek for a fire inside, a desire to live, even if it's down to a teeny flame.  It's said that you shouldn't project human emotions onto animals.  Whoever said that must have never looked into a creature's eyes and seen its soul.  When I was in college, I was beyond broke.  Scavenging in the dorm hall kitchen trash for stale bread was customary.  Slices of bread were coated in packets of ketchup or mustard, then I create an imaginary ham sandwich. The next bite could be turkey.  That's how I forced myself to choke down moldy bread and mustard.  I swore that I'd never be that desperate ever again.  When I look at my animals, I make them that same promise:  You'll never go hungry-- ever.
Garrett will never have to eat frogs again.  This morning, he had rabbit over his kibbles.  He has found his forever home.