Farm Fresh Blog

Many of you may recall Briar's first experience with electricity.  It wasn't pretty.  She cried. I cried. We were both hysterical.  But that was last spring, when the ground was wet, and Briar was younger.  (I'm not sure why I thought anything would change in a few months . . .)

     But the sheep have overgrazed some areas and it's time to pen them up with the goats and the ponies while the pastures recover and the rye grass takes root. This worked well for about 45 minutes.  Briar puttered around, checking out her digs while I went back to the house.  Then I heard the screams. 

     It started in the distance, like the whine of a locomotive.  As it grew closer, a large white freight train roared into sight.  I was on the back porch with Ranger when he leaped the fence to go help Briar.  At the same time, Briar was climbing out of the pasture - and raking her back along the hot wire strand.  The screams reached a new octave, and the freight train launched into overdrive. 

     She passed Ranger like a jet taking off the runway as she leaped into the back yard.  The other dogs and I watched in open-mouth disbelief as a 747 squeezed through the doggy door and into the house.  I went inside to find a quivering mass of jelly hiding in the hallway.  Ranger scurried in with me to make sure she was okay.  Briar was definitely NOT okay.

An hour later she was still huddled on a sheep skin in my office.  Oh well . . . like oil & water, I guess Briar and hotwire won't ever mix.

"But I don't WANNA go back in there!"

Embrace your obstacles!

When Life squirts water in your ears, shake it off!

"Shake it out, Little Dude."

 "Can't . . get . . it . . . out!"

Climb great pinnacles . . .

. . . and chase your problems away!

Then . . .

 Sleep hard!

It's Monday! Time to tackle the week ahead!

So when weighty problems smack you aside the head . . .

. . . take advice from Trace!

Handle those mountains . . .

. . . one bite . . .

. . . at a time!

"Whew!"

"I got sand in ma eyes!"

"What we need is a dip in tha pond!"

 Trace has never been swimming.

(Pardon the quality of these photos, but they were too cute not to share.)

Trace's First Swim

 "Geronimo!!!!"

Look at that grin!

 "A goldfish!!!"

Ranger closely supervised Trace's swim. You couldn't ask for a better babysitter than this goofy little blue dog! After multiple trips back into the water, we finally headed to the house.  (. . .where he got a bath in the kitchen sink, and it was not nearly as much fun as swimming.)

Disclaimer:  Farm Fresh Forensics is not receiving any monies from the sale of Kong products.

That said, you have GOT to get one of these suckers!

Seriously . . .  you do.

I got a great deal on it because they weren't selling at my local feedstore. "Buy one, get one free," the man said.

"Sold!" I said.

With 9 dogs, we're always in need of toys.  Small wubbas are a favorite, but don't last long.  Someone always chews the octopus legs off and that takes a lot of fun outta the toy.  With Trace moving in, the new toys are tiny. Everyone wants to play with Trace's tiny toys.  So . . . Trace and I went to the feed store and found toys for the rest of the pack. (after the staff played with him, and fed him, and gave him a chewie to take home. . . )  But a Giant Wubba? Would a Giant Wubba replace the fun of destroying tiny toys?

I'll let you be the judge.

"Whatcha got?"  

 "It's mine!"

"But Mom said the toys were for everyone."

"Go away Pin-Head or I will rip your ears off!"

May I take a moment to point out that these two are best friends.  Apparently friendship for Lily does not involve sharing Wubbas. At this point, I decided to try a little experiment.  How important was the toy to her?

"Lily, where are the sheep?"

"Huh?!  What? Sheep?!!  Where?!"

 "Oooh lookie what Somebody left!  Thanks, Mom!"

"HEY!!!!" 

 "That's mine!"

"Not for long, Pin-Head!"

  "Whut y'all got?" 

"Ooooohhhh . . . I want it!"

After much tussling and intimidation . . .

. . . guess who . . .

. . . ended up with the Wubba?

"There's a lot to be said for Old Age & Treachery."

And guess who else . . .

My mom's dog, Penny, passed away yesterday. 

 This is my favorite photo of them.

It shows the pure joy that a good dog brings.  They make your heart smile.

     She was Mom's constant companion.

      Penny was Kona's sister, and like Kona, her life was also cut short by cancer. She fought the good fight all summer.  More than ever I am convinced that everything works out for a reason.  The winds of Fate blew a tiny little angel to my mother's doorstep . . .

"Thank you, God!!!"

 . . . and just as Penny entered the worst days of her illness, this little angel came to bring a smile despite the dark clouds.

It has been a long, hard summer . . .

. . .  but I've been told . . .

. . . there are goats to chase in Heaven.

Godspeed, Pen-Pen

On a more uplifting note, for those of you who expressed an interest in whether or not Glory was a male or a female, the vet took a look at the kitten yesterday and proclaimed that Glory was definitely a little girl.

Now here's the funny part -

(Hehehehehehe. . . I'm still laughing about this!) Mom became so curious about the sex of her little kitten that she got on the internet to research how you properly determine the sex of a kitten.  (hahahahahhahahaha . . . ) Sorry, I couldn't help myself.  So anyway . . .  guess what kind of websites you pull up when you google the words "sex + kitten" together?  

I laughed so hard I almost peed in my pants.  Mom won't be doing that anymore.

Captain Ahab heads out in search of the Great White Whale

Deep in a sea of amber and green he searches . . .

Suddenly he spies the beast as it comes up for air . . .

And the chase is on!

 Over the waves . . he leaps in his relentless pursuit of the Great White Beast

  He is closing in . . .

. . . just as the beast turns upon him!   "Oops!"

  "UH oh!"

(Captain Ahab is under there somewhere . . .)

Moby Dick flees . . . leaving the scene of an accident and failing to stop and render aid

The Great White Beast doesn't get far.  Captain Ahab has a Fairy Godmother (Godfather?)

Apparently this was a felony.

(Yes, Moby Dick is under there somewhere.)

After a severe tongue-lashing, the Fairy Godfather releases Moby Dick.

"Are you okay, Little Buddy?  How many toenails am I holding up?"

 "Uhhmmm . . . 4?"

So the Fairy Godfather declared that the Little Captain was okay, and all was well.

The Great White Beast even returned to play . . .

. . . but this time she was more careful.

I know a criminal profiler who is fond of quoting Shakespeare.

"All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His act being seven ages."

I have always been a believer in the concept that "what's meant to be, is meant to be."  Translated: "You are exactly where God wants you at this moment." And I've held firm to the idea that we are on our own journey through life, other people and animals crisscross our lives along their own journeys.  Sometimes their paths follow our own for a while. Be it a little while, or a long while, during that time we are meant to be together. Everyone is blessed with talents and gifts that they share with others along the journey.

George Eliot wrote,

 "What do we live for, if it is not to make life less difficult for each other?"

I share this little tidbit not so you can pull out your yoga mat and meditate on life during your coffee break.  It is so much easier for me to ponder Life's little puzzles while I'm taking the dogs for a walk.  As the morning sun rises to lift the dew off the pasture, they play in the tall grass, and I contemplate life. You don't have to journey to Tibet to find the meaning of life - just take a walk on your farm. All of life's dramas are played out in the muck and mire of farm living.

It is said that life is a beautiful tapestry. The problem is that we are looking at the back of the rug, while God is looking at the front.  All we see is a chaotic hodge-podge of colored thread.  I thought about that concept this morning while I was taking my coffee, and the dogs, for a walk.

I didn't want this dog. 

When Other Half brought this little space cadet home, I was aghast.  The dog was a fruitcake and he was now our fruitcake for the next 12 years.  After a difficult adjustment period for all of us, I finally consoled myself with the knowledge that God had put this little space traveler in our home because he needed us.  After all, the dog is so weird that in most homes, he'd end up in the pound.

Over time I came to love him, despite his eccentricities.  Instead of viewing him just as a fearful space cadet that God had put with us because we could give him a loving home, I began to see the value of his steadfast devotion to family. And this morning, as I watched my Loveable Loon bounce through the pasture, carefully keeping step with a puppy, his puppy, it made my heart smile. Perhaps Life is not about who is the best and the brightest. Perhaps it's more important to realize that everyone, EVERYONE, has something to contribute to this world.  And if you haven't seen that yet, then you haven't met this little dog.

"My Beloved Monster and Me"

1) Take puppy out of crate where he has been imprisoned beside the bed all night long. At this point he is a tightly wound toy about to explode.

2) Take puppy into pasture with deep grass

3) Let the Wind-Up Toy go . . .

"I can't breathe!  I can't breathe!"

After a run and a swim, take breathless puppy into den where he catches his breath, empties his toy box, and massacres his Halloween toys.

But I see shades of a dominant, assertive little snot as he looks up to discover that someone else has raided his toy box.  He is not amused.

"HEY!  Is that my BAT?!  Put it down!  That's MINE!!!!!!

And amazingly, she does . . .

"Stay outta my toy box! I'm keeping my eye on you!"

(I saw the exact same behavior in Kona when he was a toddler.  Because of that, he was nicknamed Attila the Hun.)

Ranger is deep in Crazy Greek Mother Mode.  Here are the boys bouncing to the barn, undoubtedly humming "My Beloved Monster and Me."

 What a cute little butt!

Now for the other end . . .

I'm in danger of sharing too much information here, but . . .   Someone sank his pearly whites into Dad's calf when Dad was takin' a whizz. (And Dad had to clean up the bathroom floor!)

Unlike Ranger, there is not a maternal bone in Lily's body.  She does, however, really enjoy playing with her baby brother and tolerates his devotion pretty well. 

I give you State's Exhibit A:

Driving back from the grocery store

Trace is a bold little fart who is settling in just fine. 

He hit the ground running . . .

 and running . . .   

 and zooming . . .

In fact, if I could bottle his energy . . .  

. . . and sell it in six packs, I'd make a fortune! 

His battery runs down pretty quickly.  In the photo above, his little blue eyes are already getting droopy.

In 48 hours he has eaten:

1) beef fajitas  2) breakfast ham  3) toast soaked in grits  4) horse poop   5) sheep poop

6) goat poop   7) yogurt    8) pork rib meat   9) a stick   

and . . .  drum roll please . . .

10) dead rat

Amazingly, he doesn't have shooting diarrhea.  The boy has a strong intestinal constitution.

We've gotten bunches of notes asking how he's getting along with the rest of the pack. So here goes - - -  

Lily: She's totally okay with him.  He's a Border Collie and she knows it.  He initially fixated on her because she is a black and white Border Collie who probably reminds him of his mom. She won't cut him any slack because he's a puppy but she won't hurt him either.  Since she has always had to share attention, she isn't really jealous.

Cowboy: is also okay with him.  He doesn't play with him but knows Trace is a puppy and tolerates him quite well. Trace likes to tag along with the other Border Collies.

Ranger: LOVES the puppy.  This is Ranger's puppy!  He has kicked into Crazy Greek Mother Mode and is doting on little Trace like the gay men in the "Modern Family" sitcom dote on their infant. 

Briar:  I didn't want Trace around Briar because she is sooooo big, and he is soooo little.  That was fine until this morning when she climbed the fence to check him out while I fed horses.  I turned around to discover him bouncing around beside her while she chased cats.  She knows he's a dog and is gentle with him.  (That giant puppy continues to amaze me.) 

Alice the Bloodhound:  is blind and hasn't really noticed him. 

Ice: finds him mildly amusing but doesn't want him to jump in her face. I keep her away from him while he's loose.

Zena the Retired Police Dog: is fascinated by him.  Zena raised Ranger and Lily.  She adores puppies, but she is a bit pushy and wants to smother him. He is a little freaked by the way she stalks him and keeps near to us or Ranger when she looms too closely.

Oli the Current Police Dog:  thinks he is a neat video game.  She is not allowed loose with him because he is little and she is fast.  Later they will be great playmates but we're not sure she understands "It's a baaaaaby!" So until we're convinced that she knows he's a dog and not a guinea pig, she can stare at him through the bars like a crazed football fan.

Overall, he is getting along great with the pack (in small doses.)  Ranger is the only one that I trust with him though.  Ranger freaked out when I walked down the road with Trace to visit Dear Friend.  Ranger jumped the fence and came to find us. He was quite disturbed when he found HIS PUPPY in HER lap!  She released his little friend and he checked out Trace quite closely to make sure he was okay. Then he scooted away and shot her the Evil Eye.

"I'll let it slide this one time, but I'm keeping my eye on you!"