The Swift Ranch Chronicles — Episode Five The Welcoming Committee
After a week of watching through the fence, it was time for formal introductions. Bud went first. Starke followed. Roxy? She'll let them come to her.
Annye and Rusty had a week to settle in.
A week to claim their corner of the pasture. A week to establish routines. A week of being watched.
Because the dogs had questions.
Two fluffy intruders on the other side of the fence. Two pairs of horns. Two sets of eyes watching right back.
The negotiations would need to happen eventually.
Bud: The Diplomat
Bud went first.
He was full of nervous energy — equal parts nervous and energy — tail wagging in contradictions, unsure whether this was exciting or terrifying. Probably both.
He sniffed the cowpies first. Important intelligence. Critical context.
Then he approached the corral fence, cautious, low, ears forward, the hair on his back at attention.
Rusty leaned in, curious. Annye watched from a distance, aloof, like she had better things to do than entertain this fuzzy ambassador.
Bud wasn't sure what to make of them. But at least now he knew what the floofs were.
First contact: inconclusive. But peaceful.
Starke: The Sheriff
The next day, Starke took his turn.
His old eyes moved slow, focusing on the intruders in his pasture. Because make no mistake — this was still his land. These newcomers just hadn't learned that yet.
He tugged at the leash as the distance closed. Calculating. Assessing.
Then he declared his position the only way he knew how: one loud, authoritative bark.
I'm here. I'm in charge. We clear?
Annye looked on, unimpressed. She'd seen dogs before.
But Rusty? Rusty was all in.
He stepped forward, curious and eager — six months old and still figuring out the world, just a giant puppy wrapped in floof and horns.
Nose met nose through the fence. Cautious sniffing turned to proper introduction. The old sheriff and the young bull, working out the terms.
And then — acceptance.
Begrudging, hard-won approval.
The sheriff had signed off on the new residents.
Roxy: The Queen
Roxy didn't make the trip.
She watched from the porch, surveying her kingdom with the calm certainty of someone who already knows the outcome.
Walk all the way across the pasture? For that?
Please.
She's still in charge. She knows it. And those Highlands will figure it out soon enough.
Three dogs. Three approaches. Two very patient cows.
The pack is finding its balance.
The saga continues.
