
Farm Fresh BlogSaturday, August 17 2013
I give you . . . .
. . . Franken-puppy!!! OUCH! (makes my butt pucker) Wednesday, August 14 2013
Other Half has been on the working on the border and I have been spoiling someone while he's gone. Other Half has that rancher mentality. Livestock is livestock. Dogs who are supposed to be guarding livestock are supposed to be outside WITH THE LIVESTOCK! (yeah that's probably true.) But I'm a softie... .... and it's hot. So this week I've been letting a certain someone inside. It started innocently enough. She needed to be brushed and I sure as hell wasn't standing out in that heat to brush her. So I brought Briar inside and she sprawled on the carpet while I watched Longmire and brushed her, and snipped out the matts. She was in Heaven. Briar LOVES air conditioning! So this morning after I did a head count of livestock, I turned the sheep in with the horses, and let Briar in the house again. She found one of Henry's stuffed toys and decided to play keep-away with Ranger. That big dawg richocheted around the coffee table and bounced off the couch. Other Half would have stroked. I laughed and laughed and laughed and wished I had a camera. He is coming home today and so Briar is back to being an outside dog, but she sure enjoyed getting a peek at how "the other half lives."
Monday, August 12 2013
Sometimes we make poor choices. If we're lucky, we learn from our poor choices. If not, we serve as a cautionary tale for others. This was my Saturday night: Am sitting at work, minding my own business, when Other Half calls. He is screaming sentence fragments: "Blood all over the porch." "Trace needs stitches." "Cannot find Briar." "Need help stitching up Trace." "Come home as soon as you can."
Alrighty then. A few minutes later he calls to inform me that Trace needs an animal emergency clinic. I'd say that was a clear and accurate representation of the situation.
I meet him at ER. Trace is muddy, bloody, and has released his anal glands. Yuck. I'm kinda embarrassed that he looks like such an unloved creature. (This is why your momma says to wear clean underwear! I will ammend that advice to include: "Always bathe your dogs too! Even in rainy weather, you can end up in the ER and your very well-bred, well cared-for Border Collie could end up looking like a ragamuffin. And thus, you look like a bad doggy mommy." Just sayin'.) Anyway, they take him away for sedation, painkillers, and assessment. They come back for money. Estimate: $992 (I think.... it was late and we were in shock, but that sounds about right.) Anyway, well duh, it's Trace, so we have to plunk down the Ranch Credit Card. And leave him overnight. The vet assures us they will call after surgery. We go home. It is now 3:30 AM. We find Briar. She is fine. We then find the culprit.
Apparently Trace was outside (and came into the muck room) while Other Half was inside the house playing fetch with Aja and Dillon. Trace LOVES to play fetch. He must have crashed through the window pane and with the television on so loud, Other Half didn't hear him. He then ran to the front porch and began bleeding "like a stuck pig." (just out of curiosity: Does a "stuck pig" bleed more than any other 'stuck' mammal?) We get no sleep Saturday night/Sunday morning. The vet doesn't call. I check my phone at 4:30. At 5:00. At 6:30. by 8:30 I call them. Yes he is ready and can come home. We drive back out to the city to retrieve Psycho-Pup-Who-Crashes-Windows-to-Play-Fetch. He is now on lots of drugs. The first day home sucked. He spent a lot of time sleeping on the bed. Since we had no sleep, we slept with him.
Day Two: He thinks he's healed. Sees no reason why he cannot be outside. Believes we are punishing him and being unrealistic. Hates Henry. Has announced that if Henry tries one more time to pull off his bandage, Henry will no longer be available for adoption...
Looking back, Trace has decided that perhaps crashing through a glass window wasn't his best idea.
Thursday, August 08 2013
Remember this little ghetto puppy? God smiled at Henry and my, how his stars have changed!
Dear Friends Michelle & Bobby share the duties of 'Henry-sitting' with us, so he bounces between our households. (God, bless 'em!) Like us, they have way too many dogs to be able to be his "forever home" but they too, are caught under his spell. Henry is . . . . . . well, he's special . . .
Henry's got IT. He's got star power. He's a minor celebrity who is on his way to bigger and better things.
I took him to the vet again today for his second set of puppy shots and you should have seen this little rascal work a room. The clinic staff just fell in love with him and soon whisked him off to play with him. Henry, as skilled as any politician, worked it like a pro. The vet said Henry has doubled in weight. When Other Half brought him home, Henry was 7 lbs of skin and bones. Now he weighs a whopping, healthy 15 lbs! He is scheduled for a neutering and microchipping later this month. Henry is now healthy enough to go to his new home. He is probably some kind of rat terrier mix. He will stay small. Henry is very friendly with humans, dogs, and cats. He will bark at sheep and goats and horses, but is not aggressive at all. Thus far, he doesn't chase anything but his toys. He is as housebroken as a five month old puppy can be. He'll let you know when he has to go to the bathroom, but if you don't notice or you ignore his request, he will pee right in front of you. ("I TOLD you I had to PEE!") Henry is a house dog, unless of course you have a swimming pool like Bobby and Michelle. Then Henry likes to float in a raft and sip umbrella drinks. Michelle has listed Henry on Petfinder this week, and we're hoping to find him a Forever Home soon. He needs his own music video. I haven't decided if it should be set to the soundtrack of "Fresh Prince Of Bel-Aire" or the "The Jeffersons" ("Movin' On Up!") This is a perfect example of how much Henry's life has changed: The air conditioner in my house stops working. While bitching to Michelle about it, she realizes that little Henry, who was on the streets a month ago with no food, no water, and certainly no AC, will be hot, so she phones her husband, who is on his way home from work, to inform him that he is to slide by our house and pick up Henry. So as the rest of us go back inside our house, that is 91 degrees, His Royal Highness drives off to his "Otha Mutha" with the frigid vent of an F250 pointed at his smug little face. It made me laugh. My, how his stars have changed.
Saturday, August 03 2013
As a crime scene investigator in a major metropolitan city, I am fully aware of how quickly summer heat kills. I've seen it. It's ugly. It terrifies me. And so it was that today when Other Half dropped the phone and ran, I almost burst into tears. I waited in silence, telling myself that she'd be okay. That's what the Hotdog system is for - to save lives. And today it did. When I couldn't wait any longer, I called him back. He was on the phone with his Captain. Aja was alive. The system had worked. (And THAT'S why they bought it!) While Other Half was inside an office doing a report, Aja waited patiently in her air-conditioned police truck. Fortunately Aja is owned by an agency that pays for the Hotdog system. If the temperatures inside that patrol car rise above 83 degrees, the windows will roll down, a fan turns on, the lights and siren on the truck activate, and Other Half gets an alert on the Hotdog pager that he wears on his belt. I was on the phone with him when he heard the alarm go off. He ran. Aja's air conditioner had failed. In this heat, minutes mean death. Thankfully, the system worked. He rescued her, contacted his supervisor and explained that he was taking Aja home where she'd be safe. The truck can go into the shop on Monday. The system isn't cheap, but it paid for itself today. These police dogs average about $7000, but losing a dog like this isn't about the money. It isn't about the manhours of training lost. It isn't about the loss of an officer. It's about the unthinkable. It's about the unbearable. It's about this . . .
Wednesday, July 31 2013
Warning! Warning! Gross and disgusting alert! Each time we go to the ranch, we take four dogs with us. Since snake season is upon us, we concentrate their potty breaks to one mowed area near the cabin. All other fun for them is had from the back of a 4 wheeler or in the pond. Now one would think that this would mean a build-up of dog poop. After all, in south Texas, the poop stacks up fast. But guess what? No poop! Seriously! It's like the Poop Fairies swoop in and steal it!
I KNOW!!!! Where have the Poop Fairies BEEN all my life?!! Warning! Gross! (Okay, you were warned . . . )
I've heard about these little guys for years but finally observed them up close and personal last week. Apparently we have lots of dung beetles at the ranch. I kid you not. Within MINUTES of a dog poop hitting the ground, these little bugs are hard at work, rolling it into balls and rolling off with it. Within a hour the dog poop is GONE! It takes a bit longer with horse poop, but you get the idea. Dung beetles make a major contribution to agriculture. Not only do they whisk away the poop before harmful insects have a chance to lay eggs, but they bury it in the ground, thus improving the soil. After spending a weekend observing these little workers, it further reinforces my tendencies to avoid pesticides. This is certainly not a bug that I want harmed. Long live the Poop Fairy! Long live the Dung Beetle! Monday, July 29 2013
They mow. They weedeat.
Other Half has the large and rather messy area of the yard that is simply a collection of tractor implements. This equipment sits around the yard, waiting to be used. Grass grows up around them. Without our yard crew, this area would be a nightmare. Now . . . not so much. But this isn't without great hazard to them. One morning I watched Clover startle and take off running like a spotted ape. Closer inspection revealed that poor Clover had discovered a wasp nest on the underside of the front-end loader. Clover definitely "took one for the team," because "I" am the person who would have gotten 'got' if she hadn't found it first. With the recent rains, (and the broken riding lawn mower) I really, REALLY appreciate my yard crew. Today I was forced to add to the crew. There is simply more grass than this crew can handle alone. Reinforcements were called in today . . . And when you think about it, like my sisters in suburbia, I still get to admire the cute "gardener" . . . There's even a cute little 'cabana boy' on the porch . . .
So who needs a truck load of men with weed-eaters?
Saturday, July 27 2013
While we were at the ranch last week someone stole my goats! And my sheep! Someone backed into the yard and loaded up the whole crew! When we returned home it was dark, so we were careful to remind each other that we had left the sheep in the yard while we were gone. This mantra must be repeated often. "Don't forget the sheep. Don't forget the sheep. Don't forget the sheep." Because if you forget, this is what happens: So we didn't forget the sheep. The problem was that we couldn't find the sheep. Or the goats. Nothing. Nada. I walked all over the yard. I called. I "baaaed." I sounded like a damned fool in the dark trying to find them. Silence. Crickets. Briar was here. She had a slight limp, but that could just be Big Dog Stove Up from sleeping under the horse trailer. I walked out to the goat yard just in case our Farm Sitter put them up. Nope. No goats. As I walked in the dark I slowly came to grips with the idea that they'd been stolen. While the bulk of them could be replaced, certain little faces floated to the forefront of my mind . . . No. I didn't want to face the idea that these sweet trusting faces would be sold and butchered. I reported my fears to Other Half. He joined the hunt. I called the Farm Sitter on the wild chance they'd found a break in the fence earlier in the week and had just found another one. No. No luck. They were there when she left. I already had visions of haunting every feed store, feed lot, back lot, butcher shop, and barbecue. Other Half was already planning on pulling the security cameras and calling the sheriff and livestock investigator. And then he saw something. While I continued to walk around the yard with a flashlight, Other Half caught the glow of an eye reflected in the flashlight. And just like that, the world began to spin again. There they were. The entire flock had climbed into the cattle trailer for the night. Apparently they had discovered the cattle trailer while we were gone and learned that it was a nice place to get in out of the rain. (They had also discovered the breezeway between the house and the garage and the couch in the breezeway.) So all was well in our world again, but I learned an important lesson my flock. Certain animals are just livestock, but some animals are more than that.
Sidenote: Other Half told me later that he was most disgusted that someone would steal the entire flock and not take "that damned white dog." Clearly he has taken leave of his senses. Friday, July 26 2013
Yes, ours is life on the Funny Farm. I found this sign at Tractor Supply and simply had to have it. My only complaint is that it has no goats - NO GOATS! Or sheep! What the heck?! (This little flaw didn't concern Other Half. Go figure.) Anyway, we were up at the ranch in North Texas last week, and as always, it's a great place to get away from it all. It is a study in contrasts. The raw beauty and peace allow you to overlook the real dangers that lurk. Our lives there simply fold around the dangers. We wear snakeboots. We (I!) mow the grass beside the cabin so we can see the snakes. We exercise the dogs in the heat of the day. And we carry guns. Just like American Express - "Don't leave home without it!" The creek was dry again, but clearly it had run with some power while we were gone. Tires had floated downstream. Other Half pulled them out carefully and dumped the sand out of them (carefully!) before loading them onto the mule. Guess what a grown man with a gun does when a mouse falls out of a tire? He screams like a girl. Okay, he didn't really scream like a girl. He kinda barked in surprise. Thankfully it was a mouse and not another copperhead. The last time he lifted up a tire there was a copperhead underneath it, so the mouse was an improvement. My favorite thing to do on the ranch is to drive! I love just driving in the mule around dusk and seeing the wildlife. Turkey! Turkey! Turkey! I love watching the turkeys. And deer. Lots of deer. With the return of good eats, the hogs have moved on, so we haven't sighted them in a while.
This is my favorite inhabitant. He is a painted bunting and is quite a flashy little dude. He lives in the meadow at the top of the staircase climb of rocks. I see him all the time, crisscrossing above me as I drive through, but I've only once gotten a picture of him. (and it wasn't very good) Since he is clearly a regularly, I think I should name him. Perhaps I shall name him after an artist. Picasso? And no drive at dusk is complete without this: WARNING! Not for the squeamish! . . . . . .
. . . It is what it is, Folks. I don't like killing, but my little Henry lever-action .22 rifle is my buddy. We have more than our fair share of poisonous snakes, and thus my "live and let live" attitude has shifted to exclude rattlesnakes and copperheads. Yes, they have a place in the food chain. Just not outside my back door.
Wednesday, July 24 2013
Sorry about the delay in getting your comments approved and posted! We went to the ranch and didn't have a computer. Here is an update on Henry: Dear Friends Michelle & Bobby puppy-sat Henry for us while we were at the ranch. They have lots of dogs too. They have GREAT DANES! Henry did just fine. Michelle sent regular text messages so we got to see pictures of Henry. He got along great with his roommates.
Henry chewed the Great Danes' bone . . . He enjoyed family time with their mommy and daddy . . .
Henry played! Like a real puppy! Here is Henry with Lulu:
Henry also gained more weight! He's filling out now. I took him by the feed store yesterday and he was quite the little celebrity. Other Half had taken him in last week so when I walked through the doors with Henry in my arms three women cried out, "HENRY!!!" and whisked him up. Henry enjoyed his time meeting and greeting people in the store. The staff girls had Henry running around the counter like a cat.
Please get the word out and help us find the perfect home for Henry. He will stay small. He gets along with people, dogs, and cats. He rides in the car well. He loves to be carried, and is happy to sleep with you, or sit in the recliner and watch television. Henry has won the lottery and he knows it!
|