Well, we didn't quite make our goal, but I am very, very happy with our final total of $1308.00! Thank you to all who participated - I know it is a big relief for Janice at Hearts on Noses, and especially for Carport Penny and the rest of the piggies at the sanctuary who will benefit from the new accommodations.
In fact, several pigs are benefitting directly. Carport Penny has made a friend! Pebbles Piggy, whose home and yard is just behind the carport, has decided she would welcome some company, and yesterday found her way into Penny's little fenced area. It looks like they may well be happy sharing space, so the wheels are churning for the best way to reconfigure some yard/shelter/shed/carport space to benefit the two of them.
I should state here that having two adult pigs who are from different herds become friends and share space is the exception rather than the rule, and piggy caregivers can never just throw two pigs together in the same space. Some will never get along and will do great harm to each other. So this turn of events is truly heart-warming and gives Janice the opportunity to rethink some plans. In rescue, that is the name of the game - listening to the animals themselves, and being flexible and adaptable in order to meet their needs in the best possible way.
Meanwhile, the little red shed that we were able to pick up from craigslist, and whose previous owner kindly delivered out to the sanctuary, is now in place and will be used to resolve another problem. Comet, a young, very large potbelly with a very pushy attitude, will be the beneficiary, making life much easier for another pig he was pushing around. Schoolyard bully, that's our Comet, but in a very sweet and funny way. As with Penny and Pebbles, Comet made his needs known and showed us the way; he saw the red house being set up and headed right over to claim it for himself.
You can read all about Penny, Pebbles and Comet at the Hearts on Noses blog, here.
Again, thank you everyone for your help to raise the funds for the house and renos that will give each pig a cosy home and a private yard. Your generosity warms my heart. Blessings and piggy kisses to each one of you.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Remembering Dad, Remembering Pets
My dad passed away from cancer 31 years ago today. I was just finishing my first semester at university, a young single parent struggling to get my life back on track. I was devastated at the loss of this quiet, steady man who had, in many ways, been a kindred spirit.
I was probably closer to my dad than either of my siblings had been (and they both know I was Dad’s favourite child!!!! - heheheheheh. Sorry, Big Sis!). As the youngest of three children, and with my siblings leaving home in their teens and my mother doing volunteer work that took her away from home, I was the only child who got to spend much time alone with my dad doing the day to day things necessary for human existence.
My dad and I also shared a love of music and singing and a love of fishing. I was his sidekick who held the tools and wielded the brush when anything needed fixing or building or painting around the house. He allowed me to be the tomboy that I was – teaching me to use the tools, giving me the task of mowing the grass, helping me to cast a fly. It was also dad who told me about deodorants and mouthwash and who answered my infrequent questions about sex and babies (though back in the 50s and 60s, sex was not something one talked about, so answers were elusive to say the least!).
He was no push-over, this dad of mine. I had to account for any grade below an A on my report card, I had to sing in perfect pitch, and I had play in perfect tempo, I had to saw and nail with precision. Sometimes that was tough – he taught me to be a perfectionist, which has oftimes been a bane rather than a blessing. I am far from perfect!
My dad was also the one who would not let me have a cat or dog when I was growing up. My mom talked him into a bird, though it was clearly mom’s bird and I wasn’t much interested in it – I wanted something of my own. Finally dad broke down and got me a turtle – one of those little tiny ones that were so popular in the early sixties. Of course, in a very short time, I had killed it with too much handling and too much food.
When Sammy (the turtle) died, I saw a glimmer of the compassion that I was to inherit. It was a dark, miserable night with torrential rain. I was frantic at the thought that Sammy’s body might be disposed of in the garbage and devastated that this little turtle had lasted less than a couple of months in my care.
My dad gently took the turtle from me, wrapped it in soft cotton batting, placed it in a little box……and with me watching from the doorway he pulled on gumboots and slicker and in the pouring rain he dug a little hole in the back corner of the yard and buried my little Sammy. And then he lashed together two twigs in the form of a cross, and placed it at Sammy’s grave.
It was years before I got another pet – not until I was out on my own, a young married woman renting a house. I was ignorant then, too. Our unspayed female was left outside during the day and became impregnated by a dog that jumped the fence. My husband and I knew nothing about the length of canine pregnancy and went camping one weekend, leaving a 12 year old neighbour boy to look after her. We came home to 10 puppies who had been born under the deck. The boy had fished them out and put them all on the deck – in the middle of summer, in the hot sun, with no shade. Two of them died.
A few weeks later, we went away again, leaving the pups and mama indoors and arranging for someone to come in daily. We came home a week later to a disaster – our dog watcher had not cleaned up any poop or pee, the pups had chewed the furniture and the cupboards and the walls and the doors, and the mama was frantic. We decided it was time for them all to go, pups and mama, and gave them all away without home checks or questions. Today I am horrified at our ignorance and lack of responsibility – and equally appalled that I don’t remember anybody ever questioning our actions.
My views on responsible animal care have changed, and there isn’t a week goes by that I don’t learn and grow. And that comes back to my story about my dad –- one thing he instilled in me was a thirst for knowledge, a commitment to education, a belief that the answers are out there if you just do your homework and use common sense.
In the words of Maya Angelou:
“Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.”
I’m doing a lot better now, Dad. My critters all think so too.
I was probably closer to my dad than either of my siblings had been (and they both know I was Dad’s favourite child!!!! - heheheheheh. Sorry, Big Sis!). As the youngest of three children, and with my siblings leaving home in their teens and my mother doing volunteer work that took her away from home, I was the only child who got to spend much time alone with my dad doing the day to day things necessary for human existence.
My dad and I also shared a love of music and singing and a love of fishing. I was his sidekick who held the tools and wielded the brush when anything needed fixing or building or painting around the house. He allowed me to be the tomboy that I was – teaching me to use the tools, giving me the task of mowing the grass, helping me to cast a fly. It was also dad who told me about deodorants and mouthwash and who answered my infrequent questions about sex and babies (though back in the 50s and 60s, sex was not something one talked about, so answers were elusive to say the least!).
He was no push-over, this dad of mine. I had to account for any grade below an A on my report card, I had to sing in perfect pitch, and I had play in perfect tempo, I had to saw and nail with precision. Sometimes that was tough – he taught me to be a perfectionist, which has oftimes been a bane rather than a blessing. I am far from perfect!
My dad was also the one who would not let me have a cat or dog when I was growing up. My mom talked him into a bird, though it was clearly mom’s bird and I wasn’t much interested in it – I wanted something of my own. Finally dad broke down and got me a turtle – one of those little tiny ones that were so popular in the early sixties. Of course, in a very short time, I had killed it with too much handling and too much food.
When Sammy (the turtle) died, I saw a glimmer of the compassion that I was to inherit. It was a dark, miserable night with torrential rain. I was frantic at the thought that Sammy’s body might be disposed of in the garbage and devastated that this little turtle had lasted less than a couple of months in my care.
My dad gently took the turtle from me, wrapped it in soft cotton batting, placed it in a little box……and with me watching from the doorway he pulled on gumboots and slicker and in the pouring rain he dug a little hole in the back corner of the yard and buried my little Sammy. And then he lashed together two twigs in the form of a cross, and placed it at Sammy’s grave.
It was years before I got another pet – not until I was out on my own, a young married woman renting a house. I was ignorant then, too. Our unspayed female was left outside during the day and became impregnated by a dog that jumped the fence. My husband and I knew nothing about the length of canine pregnancy and went camping one weekend, leaving a 12 year old neighbour boy to look after her. We came home to 10 puppies who had been born under the deck. The boy had fished them out and put them all on the deck – in the middle of summer, in the hot sun, with no shade. Two of them died.
A few weeks later, we went away again, leaving the pups and mama indoors and arranging for someone to come in daily. We came home a week later to a disaster – our dog watcher had not cleaned up any poop or pee, the pups had chewed the furniture and the cupboards and the walls and the doors, and the mama was frantic. We decided it was time for them all to go, pups and mama, and gave them all away without home checks or questions. Today I am horrified at our ignorance and lack of responsibility – and equally appalled that I don’t remember anybody ever questioning our actions.
My views on responsible animal care have changed, and there isn’t a week goes by that I don’t learn and grow. And that comes back to my story about my dad –- one thing he instilled in me was a thirst for knowledge, a commitment to education, a belief that the answers are out there if you just do your homework and use common sense.
In the words of Maya Angelou:
“Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.”
I’m doing a lot better now, Dad. My critters all think so too.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Beautiful sunrise, cold weather, frisky dogs
We escaped the snow that fell on much of southwestern BC, but it is bitterly cold out due to a very strong, very cold Arctic wind. I find it mind-numbing, finger-numbing, and bone-numbing. The pigs agree - while they never turn down food, they very quickly rushed back into the sleeping stall to bury themselves in the straw and pull wool blankets over themselves as soon as the meal was over.
"Ten in the bed, and the little one said......."
"Got any breakfast for us, Foster Mama?"
Is that a piggy in there????
Yes, it is!!
The dogs, however, seem to find the cold invigorating - I have never seen them all so active, chasing each other and tearing around the pasture as if they are young pups instead of the arthritic seniors they really are. It was a treat to watch.
Charley takes a flying leap!
(Sorry it's blurry - I haven't figured out the action mode yet!)
Charley invites Oliver to play
Charley and Sadie checking out something in the distance
Three dogs on the trail
Charley and Sadie playing
Charley, happy, happy Charley!
And the sunrise this morning was also a treat to watch - a red blush, shifting to a golden wash, and finally blue sky and snow-sugared mountains.
And in all that cold, the promise of spring:
Here's some video clips of the dogs at play:
Friday, December 12, 2008
In a dark barn on a cold, rainy evening
There is always a good side to having a bad week in which the computer crashes, the truck breaks down, and the camera dies. When the problems are fixed and the crisis is over, the experience of being back to an ordinary level of stress is truly energizing!
The dark and rain of winter’s early night sent the dogs flying back indoors after their evening constitutional. They weren’t about to wait outside or on the cold concrete floor of the garage while I fed the pigs and tidied up the stalls. And so, with the dogs safely in the warm, dry house, I spent some time sitting with the piggies, singing to them in a dark barn lit only by the dim glow of a flashlight.
Scotch LOVES to be sung to. His body immediately relaxes, he rolls over with his head near my lap and his belly by my hand. He softly “oof oof oofs” as if humming along. Several of the pigsters also love the sound of music – the cadence and rhythm of the voice seems to settle them like a lullaby settles a sleepy babe. They snuggle into the fresh straw and the wool blankets, and they snuffle and wiggle and snork. (I know “snork” isn’t a word, but it describes the sound they make – not really an oink, not really a grunt, not really an “oof” – it is a “snork!”). One or two will jump back up and run to the water dish or trot into the feed stall to make sure no one has left a piece of grain or a morsel of pumpkin.
I sit with my back against the smooth pine slats. I listen to the rain on the metal roof, drumming in accompaniment to the soft vocalizations of the pigs and I. It is soothing, it is restful, and I feel the last of the stress slide from my body and dissipate into the soft earth of the stall floor.
I often wonder how the younger generation, with their apparent need for constant noise and motion and steady stream of micro-bytes of colourful visual information flashing at them nonstop, how they ever manage to clear their minds, to relax their bodies, to just let go and be one with their universe.
I could not be fully human without my connection to nature, to this incredible universe of which we are a part. I would be no more than another piece of technology, acting without thought and without appreciation, if I could not at times escape to breathe in the scent of the barn, if I could not gaze at the distant mountains, if I could not feel the animals nearby, if I could not take this time for myself. It is what breathes life back into me after the modern world has sucker-punched me in the gut. It is what keeps me strong. It is what keeps me sane. It is what reminds me of the truly important things in life, and gives me space to clarify my goals, my sense of purpose, my raison d’etre.
In the words of American naturalist and essayist John Burroughs: “I go to nature to be soothed and healed, and to have my senses put in order.”
An hour in a dark barn on a cold, rainy evening, warm piggies all around me, and my senses are back in order, and I am soothed and healed.
The dark and rain of winter’s early night sent the dogs flying back indoors after their evening constitutional. They weren’t about to wait outside or on the cold concrete floor of the garage while I fed the pigs and tidied up the stalls. And so, with the dogs safely in the warm, dry house, I spent some time sitting with the piggies, singing to them in a dark barn lit only by the dim glow of a flashlight.
Scotch LOVES to be sung to. His body immediately relaxes, he rolls over with his head near my lap and his belly by my hand. He softly “oof oof oofs” as if humming along. Several of the pigsters also love the sound of music – the cadence and rhythm of the voice seems to settle them like a lullaby settles a sleepy babe. They snuggle into the fresh straw and the wool blankets, and they snuffle and wiggle and snork. (I know “snork” isn’t a word, but it describes the sound they make – not really an oink, not really a grunt, not really an “oof” – it is a “snork!”). One or two will jump back up and run to the water dish or trot into the feed stall to make sure no one has left a piece of grain or a morsel of pumpkin.
I sit with my back against the smooth pine slats. I listen to the rain on the metal roof, drumming in accompaniment to the soft vocalizations of the pigs and I. It is soothing, it is restful, and I feel the last of the stress slide from my body and dissipate into the soft earth of the stall floor.
I often wonder how the younger generation, with their apparent need for constant noise and motion and steady stream of micro-bytes of colourful visual information flashing at them nonstop, how they ever manage to clear their minds, to relax their bodies, to just let go and be one with their universe.
I could not be fully human without my connection to nature, to this incredible universe of which we are a part. I would be no more than another piece of technology, acting without thought and without appreciation, if I could not at times escape to breathe in the scent of the barn, if I could not gaze at the distant mountains, if I could not feel the animals nearby, if I could not take this time for myself. It is what breathes life back into me after the modern world has sucker-punched me in the gut. It is what keeps me strong. It is what keeps me sane. It is what reminds me of the truly important things in life, and gives me space to clarify my goals, my sense of purpose, my raison d’etre.
In the words of American naturalist and essayist John Burroughs: “I go to nature to be soothed and healed, and to have my senses put in order.”
An hour in a dark barn on a cold, rainy evening, warm piggies all around me, and my senses are back in order, and I am soothed and healed.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
A wonderful story, a powerful message
One of my favourite blogs about dogs is called Patience-please. Patience Renzulli is a gifted writer with a terrific sense of humour and a gaggle of eight funny whippets. Patience is also a supporter of rescues, a doting doggy servant, and has a level-headed, balanced sense of animal stewardship.
I am often touched by her entries, but none have touched me more than her entry today, titled Santa's Sigh. It is about pets and Christmas, and it is a story that carries a message both significant and profound. It belongs on the OpEd page of every newspaper in the country -- I put it on a par with the famous classic, "Yes Virginia, There is a Santa Claus."
Take a few moments to gather your loved ones, and with mugs of hot chocolate and a cookie in hand, please read this wonderful Christmas story:
http://patience-please.blogspot.com/2008/12/santas-sigh.html
Thank you, Patience, for bringing tears to my eyes.
I am often touched by her entries, but none have touched me more than her entry today, titled Santa's Sigh. It is about pets and Christmas, and it is a story that carries a message both significant and profound. It belongs on the OpEd page of every newspaper in the country -- I put it on a par with the famous classic, "Yes Virginia, There is a Santa Claus."
Take a few moments to gather your loved ones, and with mugs of hot chocolate and a cookie in hand, please read this wonderful Christmas story:
http://patience-please.blogspot.com/2008/12/santas-sigh.html
Thank you, Patience, for bringing tears to my eyes.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Sagacious Sadie is back in the news
Sadie has had her second column published by the local media. You can read it here:
http://www.abbotsfordtoday.ca/wordpress/?p=938#more-938
http://www.abbotsfordtoday.ca/wordpress/?p=938#more-938
Disgruntled dogs, Happy human
I finally figured out where to put the Christmas tree, but it meant moving a few dog beds around. The dogs are not pleased.
Belle's favourite bed is now over by the patio doors. She doesn't like that because she prefers a place that allows her to keep an eye on my bedroom, just in case I should get up in the middle of the night and crawl out the window. So she took over Oliver's favourite bed.
Oliver doesn't like that. So he took over Charley's favourite crate.
Charley is not happy. So she took over Sadie's favourite couch.
Sadie doesn't fit in the little dog beds, so she decided she'd have to sleep on my bed.
That makes me happy because I've missed having a dog on the bed. I got a good night's sleep with Sadie stretched out on one side of me and the cat on the other. I was very cozy until Sadie decided to noisily thump to the floor and grumble under her breath in the wee small hours, which made Belle bark, which woke Charley up, who wanted out, which disturbed Oliver, who then chased the cat. We all traipsed outside (minus the cat) and then returned to repeat the round of getting disgrunted dogs into beds that weren't their own.
Probably just about the time they get used to the new set up, Christmas will be over and everything will return to the way it was!
Belle's favourite bed is now over by the patio doors. She doesn't like that because she prefers a place that allows her to keep an eye on my bedroom, just in case I should get up in the middle of the night and crawl out the window. So she took over Oliver's favourite bed.
Oliver doesn't like that. So he took over Charley's favourite crate.
Charley is not happy. So she took over Sadie's favourite couch.
Sadie doesn't fit in the little dog beds, so she decided she'd have to sleep on my bed.
That makes me happy because I've missed having a dog on the bed. I got a good night's sleep with Sadie stretched out on one side of me and the cat on the other. I was very cozy until Sadie decided to noisily thump to the floor and grumble under her breath in the wee small hours, which made Belle bark, which woke Charley up, who wanted out, which disturbed Oliver, who then chased the cat. We all traipsed outside (minus the cat) and then returned to repeat the round of getting disgrunted dogs into beds that weren't their own.
Probably just about the time they get used to the new set up, Christmas will be over and everything will return to the way it was!
Monday, December 8, 2008
Happy Gotcha Day, Princess Belle!
Fourteen year old Princess Belle joined my crew one year ago today. A scrawny, crippled, deaf little sheltie, bereft of her elderly dad who had recently passed away and his wife who returned to her country of origin to be cared for by family members, I’m sure Belle felt lost and confused.
But she tripped her way into my house, told the two resident dogs (Charley and Caleb) to mind their manners, and immediately became Princess Of All She Surveys. Ever the one to believe she is entitled, she has no qualms about snapping her alligator jaws at dogs three times her size when they block her view of the cookie jar or try to climb into her bed or crate. She also has no qualms about commanding me, her humble servant, to “Get up!”, “Bring dinner!” or “Open this door….NOW!” several times a day. I, of course, do exactly as she has bid.
She walks with head high, her funny little arthritic feet giving her the appearance of a runway model going through her paces just before the big show – dainty little steps, a slight wiggle to the hips, an imperious glance back over the shoulder, slightly shaded eyes peering down the long royal nose. Though only seventeen pounds, she has perfected a “haughty” look that could shrivel a mastiff’s you-know-whats.
Good diet and gentle exercise, along with the occasional acupuncture treatment and some supplements like salmon oil, have loosened up those old joints and she now runs around after the other dogs, refereeing their games and shouting her encouragement in moments when her imperial demeanor is permitted to slip.
I’m so glad you came to live here, Belle. Your feisty attitude and impertinence make me laugh every single day. Who would have thought that a little ankle biter like you could reach right up into my heart and steal a piece of it?
Happy Gotcha Day, Princess Belle.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Penny's Extreme Makeover - Week Three
Three weeks ago I set a goal of raising $1500 by December 15th in order to help Hearts on Noses provide a home and yard for Carport Penny. (You can ready the original post here).
As of today, the total raised is:
$1,308.00 !!!!!!!!
We have one week left to raise the final $192.00.
Will we do it? We will if just 10 people donated $20 each. Or 20 people donated $10 each. Or some donate $5 and some $10 and some $20.
You can donate via paypal at the Hearts on Noses website, or email me using the link on the side of this blog and I'll send you the snail mail address.
Pweeeeeaaaassssse????????
As of today, the total raised is:
$1,308.00 !!!!!!!!
We have one week left to raise the final $192.00.
Will we do it? We will if just 10 people donated $20 each. Or 20 people donated $10 each. Or some donate $5 and some $10 and some $20.
You can donate via paypal at the Hearts on Noses website, or email me using the link on the side of this blog and I'll send you the snail mail address.
Pweeeeeaaaassssse????????
A Christmassy Sort of Day
Ha! Fooled ya! No, we haven't received a big dump of snow......this is an old photo. It just seemed the right photo for the subject of this post! Today Ellen and I trekked over to the neighbour’s to select our Christmas trees. While standing among the Nobles and Frasers and Grands, I glanced up just in time to see a beautiful young buck gracefully leap over the fence, another close behind. Probably two year olds, they both sported lovely symmetrical racks and beautiful velvety mocha coats. As we carried our trees back to the car, we stood for a few moments to watch them, just feet away, nibbling on the greenery amidst the field of firs. Backdropped with mountains and rolling pasture, it was a Christmas card moment.
Ellen gave me a hand preparing this old house for winter. Built during the Depression from whatever odds and ends could be used to construct walls and window frames and floors, it is an eclectic, crooked, lopsided, funny (and some might say “dumpy”) little home, just big enough for one. Okay, one with a number of critters.
The single pane windows, some of which don’t fit into the less-than-square frames, are drafty and cold. I hate to cover them - - I am a fresh air fanatic, and the slightest bit of sunshine on a winter’s day leaves me desperate to throw open the doors and windows and air the place out. I don’t mind the chill, but environmentally it is not very responsible, and some of my family and friends who visit at this time of year find it downright uncomfortable. I compromise, though, as I leave several windows uncovered. But up went the film on the worst of the offenders. The job went smoothly and quickly, aided with Bailey’s-laced coffee and a handful (okay, two handsful) of excellent German gingerbread cookies.
I have no idea where I will put the tree this year, as more dogs means more dog beds, and less floor space. My daughter and my granddog Becky will be spending Christmas with me while son-in-law visits his family in Austria, so room must be saved for one more dog and human to sleep. And my mom, who will be with me Christmas Day, needs an uncluttered path from kitchen to bathroom to livingroom to accommodate her walker. I shall no doubt hum and haw, and shuffle furniture repeatedly, for the next few days until I figure out a suitable arrangement.
I love the Christmas season – the music, the lights, the tastes and smells of Christmas. The other day, I squeezed in a little Christmas shopping between two medical appointments – I had too much time to waste, but not enough time to go to the office or return home – and I am beginning to bring out the Christmas dishes and decorations. And, as you’ll see from the pictures below, I am already torturing the critters as I try to get that perfect shot for the few Christmas cards I send out.
I have no idea where I will put the tree this year, as more dogs means more dog beds, and less floor space. My daughter and my granddog Becky will be spending Christmas with me while son-in-law visits his family in Austria, so room must be saved for one more dog and human to sleep. And my mom, who will be with me Christmas Day, needs an uncluttered path from kitchen to bathroom to livingroom to accommodate her walker. I shall no doubt hum and haw, and shuffle furniture repeatedly, for the next few days until I figure out a suitable arrangement.
I love the Christmas season – the music, the lights, the tastes and smells of Christmas. The other day, I squeezed in a little Christmas shopping between two medical appointments – I had too much time to waste, but not enough time to go to the office or return home – and I am beginning to bring out the Christmas dishes and decorations. And, as you’ll see from the pictures below, I am already torturing the critters as I try to get that perfect shot for the few Christmas cards I send out.
It’s a Christmassy sort of day. In a world troubled by economic woes, political upheavals, wars and disasters and violence, one needs days like this to feel grounded and to reconnect with the spiritual part of one’s self. And days like today, stolen in the midst of the semester-end bustle, are truly a treat to be savoured. Happy Sunday, everyone.
Whisper, the snouty-nosed reinpig
Scary!!
Santa RobRoy
"Whatever is she doing to me????"
Santa Whisper
"The things I put up with!"
"Santa better bring me sumthin' good fer this!"
"Oh brother! It's that time of year again!"
Saturday, December 6, 2008
I'm Back in Business!
The camera arrived from my friend a couple of days ago, and today I discovered my computer has a memory card slot so I don't have to special order a cable, and so I'm back in business.
It's final exam time so I'm bogged down with work, but thought I'd post these pictures of Wednesday night's sunset, seen from my front yard looking across the road and fields to the southwest.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
And I thought I was losing my mind!
Three times in the past couple of weeks, I have found gates open that I thought I had closed, gates closed that I thought I had opened, Martin penned when I thought I’d let him out, Martin out when I thought he was penned. Three times in the past couple of weeks, the dogs have woken me up in the wee small hours – pawing at the bed, letting out single woofs, scratching at the door. On at least one of those occasions, the motion detector lights on the barn were on, but I could see nothing that might have triggered them. I was beginning to think I was losing it - my mind, that is.
But today it all makes sense – though I can’t say that I am happy about what I found out. I came home to see two men standing by my fence line at the back of the pasture. Martin cautiously watched the intruders from his pen near the barn - not where I had left him. With dogs in tow, I hurriedly trotted to the back of the field to find out what was going on.
I discovered two of my neighbours busy repairing the fence. Sometime during the night, someone had cut away sections on both sides of my field, and the next two fields over. They had used the newly-made access for hauling off tools and dirt bikes from a neighbour’s garage…..slipping through my neighbour’s pasture, down my pasture hillside path , across near Martin's old tree, onto the panhandle drive that parallels my pasture, and out to a waiting vehicle.
I should have known something was up last night. First Belle barked to go out at 4:00 A.M.; then Charley pawed at the bed and scratched at the door; then Belle, Oliver and Charley insisted that 4:30 was the right time to get up. Ironically, the one dog who really believes she must protect my property from all human and critter invasions and who regularly bursts through the doorway barking her very loud “GET OUT! GET OUT! THIS IS MY PLACE! NO INTRUDERS!!! SCRAM!!” is Sadie….who was fast asleep on the couch all night long!
Turns out this is the third time in two weeks items have been stolen from this neighbour. This time, they disturbed the neighbour who chased them off and got a good look at the car. And that allowed him to confirm a hunch....a junkie who he recently kicked out of the house is apparently taking revenge by having her friends steal anything not tied down at her former residence.
The days coincide with the days I found my pasture gate wide open (and on one occasion Martin locked into his pen) ….they were apparently trekking right through my pasture, into my yard, and down my driveway. But last night they decided it was safer to cut whole sections of wire fence out to create access closer to the back of the pasture. It’s quite possible my motion lights and dogs had startled them earlier this week. If it is the people we think it is, they are afraid of animals – dogs, llamas and alpacas!
I guess this morning I was too darn tired to notice the cut fence. Thankfully my neighbour did, and was able to marshal Martin back down to his pen so he wouldn’t wander on out. Then he corralled another neighbour and together they had just about finished repairing my fences for me by the time I got home. What good neighbours I have!
We’ve now established our own variation of neighbourhood watch, with phone numbers programmed into cell phones, vehicle descriptions, and full permission to let our dogs bark as loud as they want.
Sadie is demanding a raise in pay….more dog treats…. if she has to get off the couch at night to investigate every little sound.
But today it all makes sense – though I can’t say that I am happy about what I found out. I came home to see two men standing by my fence line at the back of the pasture. Martin cautiously watched the intruders from his pen near the barn - not where I had left him. With dogs in tow, I hurriedly trotted to the back of the field to find out what was going on.
I discovered two of my neighbours busy repairing the fence. Sometime during the night, someone had cut away sections on both sides of my field, and the next two fields over. They had used the newly-made access for hauling off tools and dirt bikes from a neighbour’s garage…..slipping through my neighbour’s pasture, down my pasture hillside path , across near Martin's old tree, onto the panhandle drive that parallels my pasture, and out to a waiting vehicle.
I should have known something was up last night. First Belle barked to go out at 4:00 A.M.; then Charley pawed at the bed and scratched at the door; then Belle, Oliver and Charley insisted that 4:30 was the right time to get up. Ironically, the one dog who really believes she must protect my property from all human and critter invasions and who regularly bursts through the doorway barking her very loud “GET OUT! GET OUT! THIS IS MY PLACE! NO INTRUDERS!!! SCRAM!!” is Sadie….who was fast asleep on the couch all night long!
Turns out this is the third time in two weeks items have been stolen from this neighbour. This time, they disturbed the neighbour who chased them off and got a good look at the car. And that allowed him to confirm a hunch....a junkie who he recently kicked out of the house is apparently taking revenge by having her friends steal anything not tied down at her former residence.
The days coincide with the days I found my pasture gate wide open (and on one occasion Martin locked into his pen) ….they were apparently trekking right through my pasture, into my yard, and down my driveway. But last night they decided it was safer to cut whole sections of wire fence out to create access closer to the back of the pasture. It’s quite possible my motion lights and dogs had startled them earlier this week. If it is the people we think it is, they are afraid of animals – dogs, llamas and alpacas!
I guess this morning I was too darn tired to notice the cut fence. Thankfully my neighbour did, and was able to marshal Martin back down to his pen so he wouldn’t wander on out. Then he corralled another neighbour and together they had just about finished repairing my fences for me by the time I got home. What good neighbours I have!
We’ve now established our own variation of neighbourhood watch, with phone numbers programmed into cell phones, vehicle descriptions, and full permission to let our dogs bark as loud as they want.
Sadie is demanding a raise in pay….more dog treats…. if she has to get off the couch at night to investigate every little sound.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Tears for my friend
My very dear friend, Ellen, is grieving the loss of her wonderful cat Mitzi who ended her earthly journey today. Ellen, my heart hurts so very much for you tonight.
With her permission, I am posting this from Ellen:
Mitzi (Feb 14, 1991-Dec 3, 2008)
At almost 18 years of age, my beautiful, precious calico girl left us today, wrapped in warm blankets and held very close.
My heart is shattered tonight... but I am comforted by the thought that she is walking among and sniffing the flowers in the meadow and playing with butterflies. There were many, but her greatest gift to me was that of my first whippet, Kinley... It was she who chose him and let me know that we should keep him.
Rest well my sweet girl, your ailing body is renewed... You will always hold that most special place in my heart. Please watch over us.
Love Mom
Ellen, I am so very sorry for your loss. Hug the Whippet Boyz and Kitty Finnia, and know that Mitzi's spirit will always be with you.
(((((Hugs))))))
Jean and the critters.
Escapades in the Barn
(Photo by Red Dog Photography)
The temperature dropped significantly late yesterday afternoon, and poor Scotch was tugging blankets over him in an attempt to get warm. He really hates the cold. It doesn’t take much for one dozen potbellied pigs to break down the three bales of straw I put in there last week, especially when the piggies get wet and muddy, so I took pity on him and decided to add another bale to the end at which he was trying to sleep.
The challenge is to lug a fifty pound bale of straw into the piggy stall without letting ten nosy pigsters and one pushy mama out into the main part of the barn. In morning light, this is not too hard as I put something tempting outside and close the barn door. But it was already dark, the piggies had already been fed, and they were settling in for the night.
Since most were snuggled down in the straw, I foolishly took the chance of opening the stall door, bale in arms. As I am only 5’1”, and the gate is about 4’8” and the bale of hay extends past my head, I am working by touch alone. Just as I manipulate the latch and stumble backwards to swing the gate open, I feel a piggy dart through my legs and make good his escape. Spritzer! Oh no!
I dump the straw, slam the gate to block the others who are now on full alert in case their scout squeals that food has been found, and try to figure out how to get Spritzer back in the stall. Unlike well trained dogs, piggies don’t sit and wait patiently while people open gates. When faced with an immobile obstacle in their path and a human behind them, they panic. They have an intense fear of being trapped – it is the nature of animals who are prey. So when I went to the far end of the barn where Spritzer was checking out the bales of hay and tried to shoo him back toward the stall, he raced at top speed to the closed gate and then raced, squealing, back to the far end of the barn again, knocking over a half dozen plastic bins and an empty garbage can enroute.
Of course, this was all occurring in a very dark barn by the light of a flashlight - the very amateurish electrical wiring in there died a final death last week.
I decided I was going to have to distract all the other piggies, including poor Scotch who had finally gotten his blankets pulled over him just how he likes them, unfortunately right by the stall door. I needed to open that gate to let Spritzer go in of his own accord.
Peanuts! I had one bag of peanuts left from the generous supply Lynda had provided at Misty’s celebration dinner. I tossed peanuts into the feed stall, the “lobby” area between stalls, and the far end of the sleeping stall, and watched as nine piglets and one Mama Soda greedily tore into them. Scotch elected to stay in bed but batted his eyes and lifted his snoutie to me to say "Foster Mama, just put a few of those peanuts right here by my snout, would ya?" And of course, I did. Spritzer would figure out a way to either clamber over him or go around.
Meanwhile, Spritzer had returned to the hay at the other end of the barn, where he was busily munching his way through a nice fresh bale. I approached him with a handful of peanuts, which thankfully have much higher treat value than hay in the minds of piggies. I slowly enticed him back along the length of the barn, opening the gate when he came within about eight feet of it. Hearing his brothers and sisters noisily squabbling over who had the most, the biggest, or the tastiest peanuts, Spritzer trotted in, scooted around Scotch’s back end, and joined the melee.
I breathed a sigh of relief, locked the stall door, and turned to depart……and fell smack over the bale of straw that I had dropped when Spritzer escaped. A bale of straw that was still on the wrong side of the stall.
Looking back at Scotch, and seeing him still cozy under his wool blanket, I decided the pigs would be fine for one more night and that extra bale could go into the stall in the daylight hours tomorrow.
G’night piggies. Sweet dreams.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Happy 4th Birthday, Emma
Today is my Emma’s fourth birthday. She was my first heart dog, and will always hold a chunk of my heart. You can read her story here.
Emma, my bouncy, sweet, eternally puppyish girl, I miss you being part of my daily life so very much. You are still as crazy as you were at six months – so much energy, so many wiggles, so determined to play fetch until you can fetch no more.
I see you have been jumping the fence. I know you are lonely and bored out in the back yard all by yourself from the wee small hours of the morning until dinner time. I’m grateful the neighbours let their dog over to play with you sometimes, and that you have a well insulated dog house that you happily use (though I’m not crazy about the electric cord your dad has installed, which I think leads to a heat lamp- such a fire hazard in a doghouse full of straw).
I worry about you constantly – why a young dog would pant sooooo hard after just a few chases of the ball, whether you are wandering onto the road when you jump the fence, whether you are on a healthy food and getting the exercise and training you need. I wish you were here. I wish your dad would let you spend more time with me and not just a half hour once a month. It just is not enough.
You would drive my old crew crazy, but oh! you would love the yellow lab pup Tina just down the road. She is so like you! And you would love to run in the pasture every day and to play fetch in my huge yard. You would love to go swimming at the doggy pool and join Kelly and your old daycare buddies on their long hikes in the woods. And, oh, how you would love the dikes! And you would love to sleep on my bed once again. And I would love to have you there.
For your birthday, I wish you health, and fun, and love. I wish you a person to snuggle and a canine pal for company. And I wish you a guiding spirit, an angel on your shoulder, to keep you forever safe from harm. I love you Ems. You are forever in my heart. Happy Birthday, my sweet girl. I’ll see you again next week.
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