🎶 Music From the Ranch

Most nights around here end the same way —
A guitar in someone’s hands, a dog in someone’s lap, and the smell of grease still on our clothes.
The engines are quiet, the pups are fed, and the fire’s throwing just enough light to see your breath.

This is where the music lives.

We don’t make songs because we want to be heard.
We make them because this life leaves you no other way to speak.

Here on the ranch, everything has a rhythm —
The hum of the welder in the garage.
The low thump of paws across the porch.
The rustle of straw, the cry of a newborn pup, the quiet exhale of a dog who’s just been let go.

There’s no part of this that hasn’t been touched by dogs.
And there’s no part of us that hasn’t been shaped by them.

Some of these songs came in the silence after a loss.
Some came during midnight feedings, or while elbows-deep in oil under a car.
Some came while sitting by the fire with a guitar in hand and six dogs asleep in the dirt.

They were never written for the world.
They were written because the moment asked for them.
Because grief demanded melody.
Because love wanted something that would last.

If you listen close, you’ll hear:

• The echo of a soul dog still moving through the house

• The ache of a bed that still holds their shape

• The joy that only a slobbery, unrelenting kind of love can bring

• The heartbeat of this ranch — steady, raw, and full of grit

🎧 You can listen here on all streaming platforms: The DogMother

We’d start you with:

🎤 “Drown Me in Slobbery Kisses” — a love song for the ones we lost
🎤 “My Bed Ain’t Mine” — the story of the dog you left behind
🎤 “Bigfoot Lives Here” — our anthem, for the legend who started it all

This is our life.
Dogs. Grit. Grease. Bonfires.
And music — always music.

– Valentina Talor
The DogMother